


Mixtape: 1983

by serenacampbell



Category: Holby City
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - 1980s, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Teenagers, Angst, Drunken Shenanigans, Eventual Smut, F/F, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Inspired by Music, Pining, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-26
Updated: 2017-03-22
Packaged: 2018-07-27 00:16:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 66,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7595842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/serenacampbell/pseuds/serenacampbell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>"Berenice. The new trauma surgeon on Keller. I never dreamt it would be her. </i>
</p><p> </p><p>  <i>My Berenice..."</i></p><p> </p><p>Serena is shocked when old school friend and lover Bernie Wolfe arrives at Holby. Tormented by regret and nostalgia, she digs out the old mixtape that Bernie left her all those years ago when they separated for university, full of all the old songs they used to dance to every Saturday night in their youth, and the particular memories that accompany them force Serena to confront her feelings for the ex-army medic, the first love who she never truly forgot...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. In The Mood

**Author's Note:**

> Hey :) I'm publishing this fic a little early, thanks to tonight's episode ruining my headcanon that Bernie knows absolutely anything about music! I've tried to integrate scenes from the actual episodes as much as I can here, though not all of it will follow the actual canon of the show, because I thought that gave it a good structure to follow.  
> The fic was originally inspired by James Blunt's '1973' (don't judge), and was intended to be reasonably short but has escalated considerably from there! I hope to update every Wednesday, which should work out at least for the first few weeks as I've written a lot ahead! There will be smut (more as it goes on) and a decent amount of angst too since I can't seem to write pretty much anything without it. They are both in their final year of Sixth Form as the fic starts, and most of it stretches from Feb-September 1983.  
> Hope you enjoy!

SIDE A

_ Track 1: In The Mood - Glenn Miller _

* * *

 

_"Engine been growling or whining?"_

The second I heard that voice, I recognised it. My stomach went cold. My heart stopped. How could it be? 

Then I remembered. Berenice. The new trauma surgeon on Keller. I never dreamt it would be _her_. 

_My_ Berenice...

_:Holby, 1983:_

It is difficult to comprehend that we weren't always friends. It was one of those companionships which seem to come out of nowhere; you can't remember life before them, can't even remember just how long you've known one another, purely because it's so natural that you could quite easily have been separated at birth. 

Although I speak as though we were inseparable, the truth is that we, even during the lessons we shared, spent very little time together. Bernie was always on the sports field, playing rugby, running, or any other sport which was happening. She loved all things physical, and was 'one of the lads' in every way possible. 

I, on the other hand, spent a large amount of my spare time teaching biology to the younger students. It was, believe it or not, my back-up plan should I fail to get into medicine. My passion for the human anatomy and it's intricacies never ceased, so it suited me well that I should ramble on about it to a bunch of curious Year Sevens three times a week. Other times I would study, always choosing the lonely seat in the far corner of the library, next to the large, darkened window, overlooking the vast sports field beyond. 

It was at an open day for prospective medical students when I first fell into conversation with her. We were seated next to one another in the large lecture hall, waiting for a talk on surgery. She said how she recognised me from school, and I smiled in response, all too aware of the hours I spent ignoring my textbooks and watching her playing on the field. She was captivating, unknown, enigmatic and I wanted desperately for us to be friends. 

"I saw you staring at the poster for that Glenn Miller tribute band," she said, a faint smile on her lips. "Is that your thing then?" 

"I do rather enjoy it yes," I replied, somewhat taken aback by the level of conversation. Despite being in two classes together, we still rarely spoke; she was seated at the opposite side of the classroom to me, and we never had any reason to interact. Until now. 

"Are you going to the concert?" 

"No," I frowned slightly, beginning to feel slightly defensive at the amount of questions she was asking as I was so often used to being ignored. 

"Oh," she said, a tone of surprise in her voice. "Well, if you wanted to go, we could always go together, if you'd like?" 

My stomach twisted slightly with shock at what she had just suggested. Go to a concert? With _me_? I looked up at her, my eyes boring deep into her's, searching frantically for some ulterior motive. Unfortunately, due to my bookish ways and lack of regard for popular fashion trends, I had experienced some years of teasing by other students, and found it somewhat difficult to believe that someone like her, who was so popular amongst the lads, being the captain and only girl on the rugby team, and something of a 'jock' in our community, would truly be interested in this sort of thing, and even less so be interested in attending it with me. 

She saw me gaping and looked down almost shyly. "If you don't want to that's fine. I mean, we barely know each other. I just..."

"No, no," I quickly interrupted her. "That sounds splendid. I was just... Like you said, we don't really know each other much."

She smiled to herself, before looking up at me with a grin. 

"Maybe it's time we did."

::

I quickly snapped back to the present. She was talking to me about cars, engines, things I knew absolutely nothing about. My heart raced, and I fought to keep my composure. 

_"Definite intermittent."_

I choked the words out, unable to think of anything more to say. She didn't seem to have recognised me; I had aged, after all, as had she. But still, the way in which she seemed to struggle to tear her eyes away from mine, on the small occasions when she allowed herself to gaze directly at me, told me otherwise.

_"Funny, you don't look like a mechanic. Well, except for the fag of course."_

_"I'm not a mechanic, I'm a trauma surgeon."_

I faked surprise. _"Ah, you must be Berenice Wolfe. Serena Campbell. I think you're supposed to light it."_

_"I've had this cigarette for two years. My husband made me quit when British forces left Helmand. So I tore up every cigarette I had, except this one. Thought I'd keep it as a symbol of my... freedom."_

And there it was. Husband. Present tense. It had been thirty years, after all - why should I care? I had, myself, been married too, and was dating Robbie, of course. But still that knowledge left me with an aching sensation in the depths of my heart. 

_"My old independent self,"_ she added, wistfully looking straight up at me and into my eyes, and I saw everything. I saw her memories as clear as I saw mine. The long nights spent together, the dancing, the drinking, the laughing, the exhilaration. She remembered it as good as I, cherished it as good as I, but I couldn't let my guard down, not now. So I carried on, a brave face, cheerful, as if I were totally blind. 

_"As far as symbols of freedom go, that's a bit pants. A nice bottle of Shiraz, however..."_

_"Goes really nicely with a fag."_

Again our eyes met, momentarily, and the memories came flooding back, flashing through my mind like an old film, reminding me of what I, what _we_ once had...

_:1983:_

The concert was fantastic, still to this day one of the most enjoyable I have experienced - though whether or not that was down to the music or her, I'm still not sure, but we got on like a house on fire. Surprisingly, we seemed to have more in common than either of us had expected. We both liked the same music, same films, same books. I remember thinking just how unimaginable it was, after all these years, to find someone on completely the same wavelength as me, who seemed to see the world as I did, and I struggled to stop myself grinning for the entire evening. 

At the end of the show, the band did an encore of 'In The Mood', during which everyone stood up and began dancing in their couples, so we did the same. I was somewhat nervous, but I had had a drink and so had she - proof of age wasn't much of a thing back then - so this dissipated quickly as she started twirling us around the aisle, our fingers interlinked, me with one hand on her shoulder and her with one on my waist. It was a surreal experience, dancing like this with what would become my best friend, on the very first night we spent out together, and the way in which she spun us round so freely, so enthusiastically - more so than any of the other couples who were politely swaying away - and still managed to gaze at me with only a slight smirk, had me losing myself in a fit of giggles. I almost broke away, but her arms were strong and remained guiding me around, somehow managing to be both firm and gentle at the same time. I remember resting my forehead against her shoulder in an attempt to calm myself, only to feel her jerking with her own bitten back laughter, and lifting my head up to see her grinning at me fondly, her bottom lip wobbling as she tried not to lose control. That was the first time I got the urge to kiss her, though I didn't take much notice of it at the time. Her eyes were soft and warm, and I felt such a connection with her that I wondered how we had ever been apart. 

And then her face crumpled, and we were getting looks of distaste from the people around us as we laughed hysterically, clutching onto one another for fear our legs would buckle. When the band finally finished, and applause rang around the room, we were quick to grab our bags and head out, both overheating from the dancing and the hysterics. 

The cold air outside felt like a slap in the face, and I quickly shrugged my jacket on, glancing quickly at my watch in the process. 

"Well," I began. "That was a wonderful evening. Thank you for coming with me, I probably wouldn't have gone otherwise." I felt awkward as we stood there, unsure of what conversation to make. I had never been good at goodbyes, and a large part of me didn't want the night to end. 

"It's my pleasure," she replied, smiling at me as buttoned up her caramel-coloured coat. We were silent for a few moments, and I was just about to speak again - though to say what, I don't know - when she asked, somewhat shyly, "Do you fancy another drink? Somewhere else?" 

I took a breath, contemplating her proposal. We were both just seventeen at that point, though both turning eighteen in the next couple of weeks - just twelve days apart - and I wasn't entirely used to going out at night and drinking. But at the same time, I simply couldn't refuse her company, and knew that my parents would unlikely notice that I was gone as they often went to bed around half past nine and it was nearing eleven now. 

"Okay," I replied eventually, my eyes locking with hers. "Though I must warn you, I'm not usually a big drinker." 

She grinned at me, a wicked glint in her eye. "Oh, you will be by the time I've finished with you."

She was definitely right about that one.


	2. (I Can't Get No) Satisfaction/Souvenir

SIDE A

_ Track 2: (I Can't Get No) Satisfaction - The Rolling Stones _

_ Track 3: Souvenir - Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark _

* * *

After our unexpected reunion, I had felt on edge all day, and couldn't wait to get home for a nice bottle of Shiraz. I really didn't know what to think; should I talk to her, tell her there's no hard feelings? Or should I avoid her, try my best to keep away and allow Hanssen and Ric to deal with all administrative duties regarding her. Or should I approach her as I would any new consultant? Befriend her, make her welcome, start entirely anew? Was that even possible, after everything? 

Finally at home, and glad that Robbie was working tonight so I that had the house to myself, I settled down on the settee with a freshly opened bottle, allowing it to breathe for a while whilst I tucked into the curry I had picked up on my way back. My mind was in turmoil, racing back and forth between desperation for us to be close again and resentment of her for the pain she caused me. Had she felt similar pain at our separation? Or did she not care, as had been seemingly apparent by her actions? I couldn't think straight, and my heart pounded with the knowledge that I would soon bump into her again, and be faced with my feelings. How could I possibly cope with that? 

But then I felt the light, fruity Shiraz against my lips, and knew in my heart that I could not for a moment bear us not becoming friends again, and so that was what I resolved to do. She would be my friend, and my friend only. 

And looking wistfully back, I started to wonder whether that should have been my resolve all along.

As I got up to go and put my empty plate in the dishwasher, my glance fell upon the cassette player on the sideboard, and my heart twisted with memories of all those years ago, of our last ever meeting. 

In that second I made a decision, and there was no coming back from it. After setting the dishwasher I quickly dashed upstairs, to the back bedroom full of old junk from when I had first moved in, and still hadn't gotten around to putting in the loft. I sifted through the various boxes, sneezing with all the dust, until I found the one full of all my old cassettes. 

There were almost too many to count, and a fair few that I should care to throw out, such was the embarrassment of having owned them. There was at least three Duran Duran albums, as well as The Osmonds and Bay City Rollers, all of which made me cringe inwardly. But the one I was looking for was hidden below all the rest, in an attempt to stop my heart breaking every time I glanced upon it.

_'Our Songs'_

_To keep you going ’til we're together again!_

_With love,_

_Bernie xxxx_

_16.9.83_

I took a deep breath, my eyes losing focus as I stared at the plastic cassette in my hands. All the laughs, the love, the tears, we're all contained on this very tape, and once I unleashed them, I was unsure whether I would be able to put myself back together again. 

Back downstairs, I picked up another bottle of Shiraz from the kitchen top, anticipating not moving from the settee again for a while, and brought it back with me through to the lounge.

The tape was still in the same place that I had left it, listening for the last time all those years ago, when I had realised that she wasn't coming back, so I grabbed myself a blanket from the airing cupboard whilst it rewound, before getting comfortable on the sofa and hitting play. 

The first, distinctive tones of 'In The Mood' filled the room, and I closed my eyes against it, picturing perfectly our first dance, and allowing myself for the first time in years to feel myself missing her, craving her. And to feel how much it hurt. 

Then the next song came on, again throwing me back into a memory, the memory of our very first night at the Starlight club. The first of many...

::

When I first set foot inside, I was alarmed by the sheer amount of people packed into one space, all swaying away to the music that filled my ears almost deafeningly. There were tables littered around the edges of the room. I went and sat at one of them whilst she went to the bar and ordered a bottle of Shiraz between us, returning balancing it under one arm with the two empty glasses in one hand and two whiskey shots in the other. 

"Oh, my," I said as she sat down, eyeing the quantity of alcohol she held. "Are you trying to get me drunk?" 

"Whatever makes you think that?" She replied sarcastically, smiling as she shrugged off her coat and hung it on the back of her seat. She picked up a shot, and I did the same. "Cheers."

The night sped up after that, yet seemed to slow at the same time, becoming more and more sluggish with each glass. I could have stayed there forever. She was so captivating that I couldn't tear my eyes away from her, my heartbeat never slowing for the duration of the night. 

We were on our second bottle of Shiraz, both of us feeling slightly unsteady on our stools, when she pulled out a small packet of cigarettes from her handbag, expertly lifting it up to her mouth and pulling one out with her lips before offering it towards me. 

"No, thank you," I said, waving it away. "I don't smoke. I wouldn't have thought you would either, with all that sport."

She looked up at me fondly, as if I had said something endearing. "It goes ever so nicely with a good glass of Shiraz, though." She grinned, lifting the lighter up to her lips before taking a long drag, and I struggled not to gape as I watched the way in which her lips hugged the tip, and how deliciously soft and sweet they looked. 

"Oh I love this song!" She exclaimed suddenly, the sound of The Rolling Stones’ 'I Can't Get No Satisfaction' beginning to fill the room. Before I had time to admit that I had never heard the song before, hadn’t really heard much of the songs that had been playing, she had grabbed my arm and we were in the centre of the dancefloor. 

She twirled around in front of me, arms lifted high about her head and eyes closed in ecstasy, and I was lost, completely lost in her. I was stood there gormlessly, staring at her with more adoration than I felt possible. She looked utterly enchanting, and my heart hammered with what I believed to be friendly awe and admiration. Anything but attraction. 

Eventually, I pulled myself together enough to start dancing with her, moving in time with the music and smiling fondly as she belted out the lyrics whilst she swayed. She looked so happy, so content, so beautiful; it’s an image I’ll never forget, that I’ll never want to forget. 

We never sat down for the rest of the night, only leaving the dancefloor for another round of shots or to quickly gulp down the rest of our Shiraz. It was always hot in the Starlight club, almost suffocatingly so with the volume of bodies packed closely around us, but still we never stopped. The crowd pushed us together, causing us to end up elbowing each other often and standing on each other's feet, which usually ended in us clinging to each other in fits of laughter. I loved these moments, the intimacy of being pressed together in such an energetic and carefree environment, neither of us caring if we were just that little bit too close, because so was everyone else. But the way in which she held my waist as we danced, me with my arms around her shoulders, spinning and twisting about with the beat, was different to that of all the other ‘friends’ who danced around us. We were in our own little bubble, always, as though no one but us were in the room, no one but us even existed. And when she gazed into my eyes, I saw a flicker of something there which made my heart stop; the pure, undeniable admiration and affection which mirrored my own, accompanied by a slight flicker of worry which I decided not to think about, such was my ignorance to what it truly was that we both were feeling. 

The night seemed to go all too fleetingly, whilst at the same time feeling as though I had been there forever, and so when the DJ announced the last dance, and the room began to slow down, I felt almost tearful that it was ending. 

_It's my direction_

_It's my proposal_

_It's so hard_

_It's leading me astray_

Our eyes never strayed from one another as we gently swayed from side to side in sync with the music. My heart, thumping in my chest like I had never known before, felt heavy and aching, and I knew that I longed for something, but was as of yet unsure just what it was. All I knew was that I wanted it more than anything, and I felt immediately like I was doing something wrong, like I had crossed a threshold from which I could never return. _Leading me astray._

_All I need is_

_Co-ordination_

_I can't imagine_

_My destination_

_My intention_

_Ask my opinion_

_But no excuse_

_My feelings still remain_

Her hands felt burning around my waist, and I could feel every point at which our bodies collided like a scold. This sensation, this hyperawareness was almost exhausting as my mind frantically searched for some relief for the unrest I was feeling. But all I could see was her beauty, and her kindness, and how much I wished for us to be the best of friends. Forever. 

And then the lights turned on, and the crowd dissipated, leaving us to do the same. By this point, walking in a straight line was something unknown to us, and we linked arms for fear that one of us would fall over. I wanted to hug her, wrap my arms around her, feel enveloped by her, but even in my drunken state I could not bring myself to, feeling too out of control to risk embarrassing myself in front of her. 

We caught the 3:30am night bus back to the small neighbourhood in which we both lived, just a street apart. The journey was fairly long, around forty-five minutes, and at some point she had come to rest her head on my shoulder, lightly dozing as we both were overcome with fatigue from our late night and the depleting levels of alcohol in our system. 

I turned my head slightly, my nose buried in her soft, blonde, wavy hair and inhaling the sweet scent of apples and watermelon which rested there, accompanied by a faint whiff of tobacco, her hair slightly damp against my nose from the perspiration of all that dancing. Unconsciously, I brushed my lips against her forehead, closing my eyes against the sensation, savouring it. I still felt slightly dizzy from all the wine, and my actions were so natural, so unthinking, that it made it seem almost like I was purely a spectator in all of this, like it wasn’t really me who had initiated this contact, who had longed to savour her like this for most of the night, without even realising it. 

But I was snapped back to reality as she lifted her head, slowly looking up at me with bleary eyes which hid a thousand thoughts and desires, and I longed to know all of them. As her eyes focused on mine, I saw a faint look of trouble in her face, as though she were wrestling with some inner dilemma which she would almost certainly be losing sleep over. My mouth watered as she stared, unable to keep my eyes away from her smooth, red lips, and feeling gravity drag me towards them, my heart feeling almost as though it would burst. 

And then the bus ground to a halt, and all contact was lost as we stepped shakily off the bus and began to walk steadily down to our conjoining streets. We were silent for the duration, both lost in our thoughts, in our worries. What was going on? Why did I feel like this? It was all _wrong_. 

“I had a really good time tonight,” she said tentatively as we reached the point at which we were to go our separate ways. “We’ll have to do it again, sometime.” 

“Yes, it was wonderful,” I replied, a faint smile on my lips, feeling my chest swell with contentment, and relief that I hadn’t scared her away. 

“Next Saturday?” Her voice was unsure, as if she was afraid of my rejection, but I didn’t even have to think twice. 

“Yes,” I said, almost too eagerly. “I’ll look forward to it.” 

She grinned at me. “Right,” she nodded, standing up a little straighter and reaching out to give my arm a friendly squeeze. “I’ll see you then, then. Goodnight.” 

And faster than I knew what was happening, she had placed a gentle peck on my cheek, and made her way off into the darkness, towards her own home. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the great feedback! Keep letting me know what you think :)


	3. Does Your Mother Know/Jeepster

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I've been really nervous about posting this chapter, so please let me know your thoughts - it helps to keep me motivated!
> 
> More next Wednesday! :)

SIDE A

_Track 4: Does Your Mother Know - ABBA_

_Track 5: Jeepster - T. Rex_

* * *

The next three Saturday nights after that were spent in the same manner. She would call me up each Saturday at 4pm when I had arrived home from my Saturday job, allow the phone to ring three times and then hang up, to signal that we were on for the night. We didn't have redial or an answering machine in our house at that point, and I found endless amusement in my mother rushing to the phone only for it to be dead by the time she picked it up. Each night resulted in painful hangovers which lingered even when we had returned to school on Monday morning. It was worth it though, and I watched her play on the sports field from my position in the library almost as a remedy for my suffering. Every now and then, she would glance towards me, a small, knowing smile on her lips before she resumed her play, and I lived for those moments. 

Despite our newfound companionship, we still didn't interact much whilst at school. I didn't mind this, however; it made our Saturday nights feel all the more special, being the only time we spent together, the time that we reserved exclusively for one another. The weeks dragged, though, as I waited eagerly for the next time we would go out, let loose, become lost in one another. 

Meanwhile, I made a habit of taping the weekly charts on the radio with the new cassette player I had received for my birthday, playing it back again and again until I knew almost every word to every song, in a desperate attempt to impress her and be able to join her in her over-enthusiastic singing on the dancefloor. In fact, I started to spend most of my time listening to the radio, always finding myself grinning each time a song that I recognised came on, remembering how we danced. 

I had fast discovered my favourite songs, and so when ABBA's 'Does Your Mother Know' came on, the fourth Saturday we spent together, it was my turn to drag her across the dancefloor, laughing all the time as we danced and sang together. 

We drank more than we ever had before on that night, consuming at the very least a bottle of Shiraz each along with what seemed like infinite shots of tequila. We spun and we twirled and we let ourselves feel completely free as we let loose from a difficult week of mock exams and coursework deadlines. We were closer than we had been before that night, too, dangerously so, out in the open like that, but the drink had gotten to me and so every opportunity to pull her closer, to feel her beneath my fingertips, I took, my caresses disguised amongst the crowds. 

"I need some air," she spoke in my ear, her nose bumping softly against the side of my face as she struggled to keep steady. I nodded in response, following her across the room towards the door, both picking up our glasses as we went in case someone were to take them whilst we were gone. 

The cold air outside made my head spin, and I took a couple of moments to steady myself and to stop the dizziness. We stumbled round to the side of the club, away from the noise spilling out of the doors and the bustling of people coming and going, needing time to just relax from the suffocating heat of the club. 

She leaned against the wall beside me, and I watched intently as she reached into her bag for a cigarette with bumbling hands, sluggish from the drink. 

"Allow me," I said quietly, batting her hand away and reaching inside for her, pulling out the packet and her lighter before placing a cigarette between her lips. 

"I thought I was supposed to be the lightweight," I joked, grinning at her as she smirked at me warmly. 

"Shut up," she mumbled, the unlit cigarette still between her lips. "I saw you eat that bag of crisps at the bar. That's cheating." 

I laughed. "I didn't know we were playing by rules," I smirked, lifting up the lighter and resting my hands atop her's as we both attempted to shield the flame from the cool night breeze. 

"Thanks," she murmured, taking a deep drag as I replaced the lighter and packet in her bag, my knuckles lingering ever so slightly against her hip before pulling away. 

We were silent for several moments, me watching her with fascination and drunken adoration as she alternated between drags and sips of Shiraz. I felt a desperate urge to be closer to her, to have her put her arm around me and to breath her in, and I tried to come up with a way for this to happen. 

_You're so sweet_

_You're so fine_

_I want you all and everything_

_Just to be mine_

"Is it really that good?" I asked suddenly, unable to identify where my words had come from, and feeling out of control of them, like I was on autopilot. "Shiraz and a fag?" 

She smiled, taking the cigarette from her mouth before turning her head towards me. "It's heavenly," she replied softy. "Especially when you've drunk as much as I have tonight." She chuckled. 

I held my breath, gazing at her steadily, meeting her eyes and never looking away. 

"Show me."

She looked at me intently, before pushing off the wall and placing the cigarette between her two fingers, her eyes never leaving mine as she lifted it slowly up to my lips. 

The world seemed go quiet and still around us, but for the faint murmur of T-Rex coming through the walls of the club. 

My mouth watered, my eyes suddenly feeling heavy as they locked with hers, and carefully I took a short drag, before exploding into a coughing fit. She laughed at me fondly. 

"Not getting the charm there," I spluttered, struggling not to giggle myself, such was her hysterics. She always had the most infectious laugh. 

"I'm sorry," she cackled, almost bent over double from the laughter. "Your face..." Her features crumpled again as she leant back against the wall for support. 

"I'm glad you find my suffering so amusing," I said, attempting to sound disapproving but breaking out into a grin half way through. "It's safe to say that you've not won me over at all with that one." I drained the rest of the wine in my glass and placed it on the little half-wall across from us as she stood straighter, inhaling deeply the last of her cigarette before tossing it on the ground and stamping it out with the ball of her foot. 

_The wild winds blow_

_Upon your frozen cheeks_

_The way you flip your hip_

_It always makes me weak_

"Here," she said pointedly, and I barely had time to look up before she was kissing me, her fingers pressed firmly against the back of my neck as she pulled me close towards her. 

My world stopped, and I was frozen in place as I experienced for the first time her lips mingling with mine, a sensation that I had so often imagined but never dreamt of actually happening. Her body pressed closer towards mine, turning me so that I was pressed against the wall of the club, and I whimpered involuntarily as she gently pushed her tongue inside my mouth, allowing me to taste just the combination of flavours she wanted me to. 

Then the shock was over, and I was responding hungrily, my fingers tangling in her hair and my body pressing as close as possible, desperate to feel her against me, to be consumed by her. Her hands wandered down my sides before reaching round to grasp my arse, pulling my hips towards her's so that they ground together torturously. I pulled at her bottom lip with my teeth, leading to a low, guttural moan escaping her and shooting straight through my stomach to my core. 

"I see what you mean now," I murmured against her lips, feeling her chest rise and fall erratically in unison with mine, her breaths hot and sharp against my skin. 

She let out a shaky breath, a slight grin on her lips as she placed a wet, open-mouthed kiss on my own, her fingers gliding slowly down my arm and interlinking her fingers with mine before pulling with her around to the back of the club, away from any chance of prying eyes. 

Her hands were all over me then, pushing up underneath the silk of my blouse to graze bare skin as our kisses became biting and fierce. My arms were wrapped firm around her shoulders, pulling her close so that I could feel every inch of her pressed against me, yet still I was desperate for more. My head was spinning, my breathing irregular, my skin on fire as I felt her overwhelm my every sense, her lips moving to my throat, placing rough kisses there and making me cry out with pleasure as her teeth grazed against the sensitive skin. 

Her mouth moved lower, kissing and nibbling as she went along, and soon she was unbuttoning my blouse, her tongue running across the curve of my breast before continuing, moving ever closer to my nipples. Meanwhile, my hands were making their way down her spine, daring to delve beneath her waistband and cupping the bare skin there, only slightly covered by her lacy underwear that I found myself dying to get beneath, leading her to gasp against my skin, humming in response as she fastened her mouth around my right nipple, twirling her tongue around it in a way that almost made me scream. 

As if in response to my actions, I found that her fingers were now fumbling drunkenly with the top button of my trousers, and I rolled my hips towards her in encouragement whilst simultaneously mirroring her movements. She kissed her way back up my neck, recapturing my lips as she ran her cool fingers across the fabric of my underwear, leading me to gasp as she felt the wetness there. 

I felt her chuckle against my lips. “You _really_ want me,” she said cockily, in between kisses. 

“I don’t hear any complaints,” I replied, biting down just that little bit harder on her bottom lip and thrusting my hand straight down underneath her knickers, feeling her heat and groaning at the sensation as she drew in a sharp breath and bucked her hips against my hand. A shiver ran right through me, the excitement of for the very first time dipping a finger into her and feeling her hot and ready for me, soft around my fingers in a way which made my mouth water, and my breathing go shallow in unison with hers. 

She repeated the movement, and soon we were reduced to a rutting, quivering mess, me with one leg hooked around hers, jerking against one another’s hands as we kissed with such force I was certain I could taste blood. Soon, my vision was flashing and fading to black as I reached the edge, and all I needed was one final brush of my clit to finish me off, crying out as I came and quickening my wrist movements as she did the same. Her lips faltered against mine, slack as we both finished and felt exhilaration like never before. 

After moments of recovery, I felt her fingers retreating from me, though her lips still brushed mine, and soon we were simply leant against one another, occasionally dipping in for another kiss or embrace, revelling in our post-coital exhaustion and the relief we both felt at the built up tension, finally satisfied.

::

I don’t know how I managed to get home, but the first thing I felt the next morning was a pain so severe, I thought my head was about to explode, followed closely by dizziness and urgently rising bile in my throat, causing me to leap out of bed and into the bathroom just in time to crash down onto my knees and throw up violently in the toilet. My stomach felt as though it were turning summersaults, my head spinning as though I was on a boat in stormy weather and my limbs jerking violently as I trembled in pain. I rested the side of my cheek against the toilet seat, too fatigued to keep my head up and feeling too ill to go back and lie down in bed. My stomach rolled and growled, until all I could do was dry-heave, my stomach so completely emptied that there was nothing left for it to propel out. 

Eventually, I managed to stumble shakily to my feet, clinging onto the side of the bath for support, regret lacing my every movement as I tasted the aftermath of such a heavy night on my lips, wine mixed with bile and tequila and... was that a hint of tobacco?

I bit back another wave of nausea washing over me, instead turning on the cold tap and rinsing my mouth out in the sink. I felt disgusting, sweaty, dirty, and thought about taking a shower, but couldn't face the heat of it just yet. I just needed sleep. 

Then I saw my reflection in the mirror above the bathroom counter. 

I had expected to look rough, to have dark circles under my eyes, lipstick smeared down my chin and hair stood out on end. I had expected the green tinge to my skin and the goosebumps lining my flesh. What I did not expect, however, was the dark purple blotches which marked my neck, my shoulders, my breasts. A long line of them, running from behind my left earlobe to my collarbone, then scattered haphazardly across my shoulders and chest. Looking down, I saw how my right nipple was swollen and red, bordering on bleeding from the force of her lips and teeth - not that I remembered as much, at the time. All I could recall was her lifting the cigarette to my lips, the beating of my heart as she met my eyes, and the sensation of her lips meeting mine in order for me to sample the delectable combination of Shiraz and tobacco that she so often spoke about. 

My first reaction was panic. How in God’s name was I supposed to hide this? I looked as though I had been beaten up, strangled, battered - how on earth could I possibly explain that to my mother, never mind people at school? And then there was the regret; our relationship was precious, and what would this do to us? Had we ruined ourselves forever? I certainly hoped not. 

As if in sync with my thoughts, the telephone rang downstairs, and I quickly rushed back into my bedroom to cover myself in a blanket so that I could answer it. Looking at my watch, it was just 6am, and so my parents would not yet be awake, and there was only one person who could possibly be calling at this hour. 

“What on earth have you done to me?” I hissed down the receiver, my blanket lifted above my head and wrapped tightly around me for fear that my parents should for some reason appear. 

“I was about to ask you the same question,” she replied, but amusement laced her voice, a far cry from my blind fury and panic. 

“I look like I’ve been beaten up, for heaven’s sake! How am I going to hide this from my parents? And at school?”

“Oh relax,” she chuckled. “Just put a bit of concealer over it and wear a scarf for a few days. You’ll be fine.” 

“I will not!” I raised my voice, my stomach immediately jolting in fear that I would wake my parents. “You’re an animal!” I said, more quietly. 

She laughed in a way which both soothed me and made my blood boil. “I can assure you that you gave as good as you got.”

“No I didn’t!” I said back quickly, before hesitating. “Wait, did I? Do you remember everything?” 

“Of course! Do you not?”

“No,” I said slowly. Oh shit. 

She laughed again. “Now who’s the lightweight?”

"Ugh, go fuck yourself!" I snapped, furious that she wasn't taking this seriously enough. 

"I think you took care of that one."

"This is serious! There's no way I can... Hang on, what?" 

She chuckled heartily. "No chance I'm elaborating on that one." 

I started to protest, but then realised it wasn't worth it. I took a deep breath. "I'm sorry," I said quietly. "Forgive me. Oh, I feel so ill," I groaned, sliding down the wall next to the table where the phone was placed. 

"That makes two of us," she said sympathetically. "Have a nice sweet cup of tea and some dry toast, that should sort you out." 

I murmured my thanks, closing my eyes against the blinding pain in my head.

“And I’m sorry too,” she said, after hesitating. “I shouldn’t have… We were _very_ drunk.” She laughed nervously.

“Don’t worry about it,” I replied, resting my forehead on my knees. “It’s all in the past now. Well it will be once I get rid of these bloody hickies.” 

I heard her smiling in response. “Yes. It probably shouldn’t happen again…” She trailed off, almost as though she were questioning her words. 

“I think you’re right.” 

There was a half awkward silence for a few moments, both of us unsure of where to go next, contemplating the night before. 

“Well, I suppose I’ll see you tomorrow then.”

“Yeah, see you,” she replied quietly, stifling a yawn. 

I replaced the receiver on the table, and crawled my way back to bed.

 


	4. No Track

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is late, I've been at work all day so didn't have chance to post it.
> 
> This chapter is a bit less eventful that the rest, mostly because I couldn't figure out where to split it with the next chapter, which is now an absolute mammoth since there was nowhere else I could reasonably split it up, so look forward to that! ;)
> 
> Enjoy

Attempting to hide my bruised neck from my parents was an absolute nightmare, leading me to feign having the flu so that I could stay in bed with the duvet almost completely covering me without raising too much suspicion. If they suspected a hangover, they didn’t mention it and I made sure to be up and out of the house the next morning before they could question my choice of clothing for the day. 

Unfortunately, my peers were not so easily avoided, including Bernie herself, who seemed to be having the time of her life winding me up from across the biology lab. 

"Serena, are you okay?" asked our biology teacher, Miss Trent, a mix of concern and irritation in her voice. "You look a bit peaky. What's with the scarf? It's about twenty degrees in here." 

"I was just thinking the same thing, Miss," Bernie piped up, and I shot her an incredulous look. She grinned at me, before continuing. "I feel hot just looking at you, you must be roasting!" 

"I'm quite alright, thank you," I replied firmly, avoiding her eyes. I could never resist that grin, and feared I would lose myself to laughter if I looked at her again, so ridiculous was my situation. "I'm just recovering from a rather nasty ear infection so getting a bit of a chill, but I'm fine, really." 

The teacher eyed me sceptically. "If it's that bad, then you really shouldn’t be here..." She began. 

"It's fine," I interrupted. "I'd just like to get on with my studies, if that's okay with you?" 

“Temper, temper,” Bernie called across the room, amusement lacing her every word. I ground my teeth, getting an uncontrollable urge to throw something at her. 

“That’s enough, Berenice,” Miss Trent warned, before clearing her throat. “Right, back to work everybody.” 

With the attention finally away from me, I risked a glance towards my friend, only to find her staring at me with the most irritating smirk I have ever seen. Pettily, I screwed up my face at her, sticking my tongue out, leading her to clap her hand over her mouth in an attempt to hide her laughter and failing miserably. 

“Is something the matter, Berenice?” The teacher turned around from where she was writing on the blackboard, raising an eyebrow at her in suspicion. 

“Nothing, Miss,” she coughed. “Just something in my throat.” 

I chuckled inwardly to myself, enjoying seeing her get a slight taste of her own medicine and vowing to get a proper revenge at some point, before returning to my notes.

::

Period four that day I went to my usual spot in the library to do some studying and, though I wouldn’t admit it to myself at the time, to watch Bernie playing sports on the field. It thrilled me to get those little glances from her; it was all I could do not to blush furiously each time, and in all truthfulness I rarely got any work done. 

Today, however, I was tired, still feeling the aftereffects of our heavy night and soon found my eyelids drooping, and before the team had even appeared on the field I had laid my head on my forearms, and drifted off to sleep. 

I woke to a tickling sensation at the side of my neck - the side so embarrassingly covered in love bites from the other night - though shrugged it off as my scarf rubbing at the side of my neck, grunting slightly before deciding to go back to sleep, not really much aware of where I was in my semi-conscious state. But then I felt the unmistakable brushing of fingers, and cool air hitting my skin as the scarf was pulled back. 

My eyes flew open, my heart skipping a beat, and I sat up quickly, ready to fight whoever was who was intruding so boldly into my privacy, only to be faced with her sat next to me, grinning happily. 

“What on earth do you think you’re doing?” I asked, incredulous. I wrapped my scarf around myself more tightly, self-conscious. 

“Just admiring my handiwork,” she replied smugly, lifting her hand up to pull down my scarf again to get another look. I quickly swatted her hand away, shooting her a warning look.  

“This is absolutely ridiculous,” I said despairingly. “You do realise that I am going to have to avoid my parents until these have healed? And you said I gave as good as I got! There’s nothing on you!” She was wearing her usual school sports hoodie and polo-neck t-shirt, with absolutely nothing to evidence what had gone on between us. She didn’t even look as though she had lost any sleep. 

She shook her head at me, looking behind her before pulling across the neck of her shirt to reveal a large, swollen blotch on her shoulder and then pulling it downwards to show one to match just above her left breast. “You were just a bit more discreet than I,” she said softly, so that no one could hear. “Don't know how they'll go down in the changing rooms, mind you. They bloody hurt as well.”

“Good,” I said pointedly, giving her a stern look. “Anyway, why aren’t you at practice? Is it because of the shoulder?” 

“No,” she chuckled lightly. “Though that might caused a couple of problems. It was Dukes’ 18th on Saturday, and, as most of them are in an even worse state than you are, I cancelled practice for today. So I thought I would come and see how you are instead.” 

“Come and wind me up more like,” I said cynically, but couldn’t help a smile. “Were you not invited?”

“Yes, but I gave it a miss,” she replied quickly, and was that a hint of shyness in her voice? I froze. _We were out on Saturday night._

“How come?” I asked, attempting to sound nonchalant when in reality my heart was pounding. 

“I…” She said slowly, looking down at the table. “I just… decided I’d rather have gone out with you, that’s all.” 

My breath caught in my throat, and I felt somehow slightly emotional. "Got more than you bargained for there," I managed to choke out, feigning indifference in order to mask what I was truly feeling, to mask the fact that this meant more than the world to me, to mask the fact that I cared too much. 

She let out a brazen, hearty laugh. "Yes, I suppose I did," she replied, a genuine, illuminating smile on her lips. "I still wouldn't have changed places, though.” 

I held my breath, unable to comprehend her words, to formulate a coherent response. For some reason, I didn't want to believe that I meant as much to her as she did to me. That seemed like crossing a boundary, some unknown threshold that couldn't be returned from, and I wasn't ready for that. Not in the slightest. 

"Easy for you to say," I mumbled eventually, desperately attempting to hide behind my words. "You're not the one having to dress up as an Eskimo when it's fifteen degrees outside." 

She stared at me penetratingly, before chuckling slightly. "Yes," she said quietly. "I suppose you're right."

We were silent for a few moments then, me twiddling with my pen and her gazing down at her fingernails contemplatively, her hair falling into her face in a way which made me desperate to tuck it behind her ear. Could I see a slight tinge of pink in her cheeks? I was quickly distracted as she spoke again. 

"Oh, I meant to ask," she said, almost shyly. "Jonty is having his eighteenth next month, the twenty-third. It's in some big casino in Bristol; his parents are pretty well-off. But it's a Saturday night so I asked if you could come with, if you like? As a plus one, sort of thing. It's a free bar all night, and they're paying for all transport there and back, so it wouldn't cost you anything. What do you think?"

"Yeah," I choked out, a little surprised by just how far she seemed willing to go to spend time with me, but quickly putting the thought out of my mind. "Of course. If you're sure that's okay?"

"Definitely," she smiled, seemingly relieved. "He owes me anyway. But, you know, it saves us a bit of money with the free bar and all that." She grinned at me. 

"Don't pretend you won't spend it all on the roulette table," I glanced downwards, hiding my fond smirk. 

She nudged me with her elbow. "Oh, don't act so bloody righteous. You know you'll be right there next to me, egging me on." 

I raised an eyebrow at her playfully. "How much are you willing to bet on it?" I joked. 

She chuckled lightly. "We'll see," she said, smirking at me. Our eyes met, then, and I found myself unable to look away from her warm, soft eyes, butterflies swarming in my stomach as I smiled back at her, a strange feeling of nervousness mixed with complete elation filling my chest and making my heart flutter. The afternoon sun highlighted her every feature, making her hair glow golden like a halo and her eyes gleam in the light. She was so, so, unimaginably beautiful that it almost took the breath out of me. I wanted to hold her, kiss her cheeks, kiss her lips. I wanted to love her; I just didn't recognise it yet. She was my best friend, and that only. 

Suddenly, the bell for final period broke our eye contact. I had no idea how long we had sat there like that, gazing into one another's eyes; I was late for physics and didn't have time to dwell on the matter. It was too long though, and mystics have felt full and churning as I rushed off to the other side of the school, the image of her like an angel filling my mind, and my heart. 

::

I clicked the cassette player off at that point, unable to listen further. My heart was aching and twisting, my eyes stinging with emotion and my hands trembling as I lifted my glass to my lips. Remembering her like that, in all her youthful radiance, and seeing the contrast to now, and wishing with each fibre of my being that I had been there to witness the transition, was playing with my feelings more than I could allow, more than I could detach myself from. She was married, I was with Robbie, and that was the end of it. Nothing more. It ends here. 

I poured myself another glass of Shiraz and flicked on the television, watching hazily and trying with all my will to slow my racing heart.


	5. Let's Dance/True

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like I said before, this is huge. Also a pretty important chapter, so please do let me know your thoughts! Enjoy :)

SIDE A

_Track 6: Let's Dance - David Bowie_

_Track 7: True - Spandau Ballet_

* * *

My strong-willed nature allowed me to almost completely detach myself from any feelings I held for her, and somehow we even managed to become friends, neither one of us daring to ever mention our past life together. It was as though we had silently agreed to start anew, and that's exactly how it was. For a while. 

_"I have been instructed by your husband's lawyer to serve you with this divorce petition."_

I couldn't help the little skip that my heart made that those words, and instantly hated myself for it. She looked to wounded, so vulnerable that I felt emotional just looking at her, imagining the pain she must be going through, as I had with Edward. That bittersweet suffering, the achings of betrayal and regret interlaced with hope and relief at finally being free to love again. 

She seemed to deal with it easily, her usual steely resolve in place immaculately, impenetrable and untarnished. How I envied her ability to do that, to completely disconnect and beat down ones feelings and walk away unscathed. If only I had been the same. 

That evening, I took her for a drink in Albies to relax a bit - she would only be going back to her hotel, after all. I wanted to ask her if she'd like to stay with me, but felt as though that would be stepping over a boundary which was best left uncrossed, for now at least. But that night, after losing count of the amount of wine we had both consumed, was the first time since we met again that she acknowledged our history together. I suppose we were never good with boundaries anyway. 

_Let's dance_

_Put on your red shoes and dance the blues_

She looked over the rim of her glass at me with a half-grin, her head rested on one hand and her eyes bright and nostalgic. 

"This wasn't half overplayed," she said, meeting my eyes in a way which let me know exactly what she was talking about. "It was on about three times a night, wasn't it?" 

I gazed at her intently, carefully choosing my words and fighting to keep my steady nerve. "I recall I counted five once," I said lightly, nonchalantly. "I'm surprised you remember."

She seemed almost wounded at that, but quickly recovered herself. "Oh, I remember a lot of things," she replied, her gaze falling to her glass as she took another large swig. 

"Really?" I asked seriously, with an air of scepticism. She set her glass down on the counter. 

"How could I forget?"

She looked up at me with eyes that seemed more watery than usual, and I felt my heart tugging, felt my entire centre of gravity shifting, pulling me towards her. 

In that moment, that instant, it would have been so easy to kiss her, to close the gap between us and allow thirty years of frustration and anguish to come rushing out. I wanted it, almost painfully so. And I could tell that she did too. 

_If you say run, I'll run with you_

_If you say hide, we'll hide_

_Because my love for you_

_Would break my heart in two_

But this wasn't right. We were both hurting from our recent break-ups, and both more than a bit drunk. History mustn't repeat itself. 

"I really should be going now," I said quickly, standing from my stool and purposefully half a step further away from her. "Can I get you a cab?" 

She seemed to let out a large breath, and I realised that I too had been holding mine and now felt slightly dizzy. "No, it's fine. I'll walk," she replied with a slight smile, avoiding my gaze. 

I felt like I should wait for her, but was afraid of what would happen if I did. "Right. Well, I suppose I'll see you tomorrow then," I said shortly, shrugging on my coat. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight." She offered me half a smile, but looked quickly back to the remaining wine in her glass. I rushed out of the pub, taking a brisk walk home, back to the cassette that lay waiting in my living room. 

::

For the three weeks that followed, 'Let's Dance' was top of the charts and seemed to play everywhere; in the club, in shops, on the radio. We danced to it every Saturday, throwing our arms up in the room as we swayed and twirled around one another, singing with the crowds and feeling on top of the world, then for the next week not being about to stop humming it under our breath, sneaking knowing glances at one another across the classroom as we did so, just managing to get it out of our heads in time for it to be firmly reignited the following Saturday. 

We had gone out that first following weekend carefree, laughing about the previous week like it was an old dream, ridiculous, a mistake. And it _was_ a mistake. It shouldn't have happened, and we mutually agreed that. 

But that didn't stop us again, at 2am, spilling out of the club and round the back, hands desperately clutching and grasping before we even managed to get out of sight. In all my life, I still haven't had butterflies like it. It was pure excitement and arousal, attraction, knee-weakening and heady, and when she spun me around in her arms and pressed me against the wall of the club I felt like melting, every limb loose and languid with want. 

The next weekend we tried harder not to let it happen, promised each other and ourselves. But, sat together on an empty top deck of the night bus, our thighs pressed together as we slumped down on the back seat, her hand somehow came to rest on my knee and I couldn't tear myself away from her, pressing myself closer and closer to her, until we found one another's eyes and could hold back no longer. 

And the third weekend we even managed to get off the bus and onto our short walk home before we had bumped into one another just too many times to separate again, and dangerously we kissed in the street, in full view, before I dragged her with me into the woodlands just before our neighbourhood, my hand fumbling with her zipper before we were even completely out of sight. 

We were drunk all of these times, and there is no doubting that it wouldn't have happened if we were sober. But the hangovers seemed to progressively lessen, and after the second week I wasn't even nauseous when I awoke, simply nursing a sore head and dry mouth. If you had asked me at the time, I would have insisted that my body were simply becoming used to the amount of alcohol consumed, and so more easily able to process it and leaving me with less after effects. But the truth was that we were just drinking less. We didn't need to be blind drunk to get together; both of us were completely aware of our actions, though the next morning we always swore otherwise, and by the third weekend we didn't even have any shots, both conscious of saving our money for the casino next week. But still we found ourselves, in the early hours of the morning, unable to resist one another, and remembering it the next morning my lips even curled up in a smile. I loved those nights with her. 

Jonty Dean was one of the more wealthy students in school, but still upon arriving at the casino the following week I was taken aback by the grandeur of it. His parents had rented the whole place so that it was only invited guests in the building and even in my reasonably expensive red, fitted dress I felt under-dressed, though Bernie assured me with a glint in her eye that I looked "beautiful as always", causing a little flip in my stomach and a blush to rise in my cheeks.

She arrived separately to me, taking a car with the rugby lads as was expected of her and kindly paying for my cab. The casino was a way off the other side of town to us, further than the bus route went, and I had absolutely no idea where I was going, but she ordered the cab to drop me off right by the door and was waiting for me with a grin when I arrived. 

She wore a long, black gown, with detailed lace around the neckline which ran just below those collarbones which I loved so much, and was gathered in at the waist, accentuating her hips and falling down loosely to her strappy black stilettos. I had to steel myself for a moment, climbing out of the cab. She looked stunning, breathtakingly so, and I smiled affectionately at her. 

"You scrub up well," I grinned, as she offered me her hand getting out of the cab. "Who would've thought it?" 

"Shut up," she smirked, taking my arm. "I feel like a right wally. Dresses really are not for me. And these fucking heels! I've nearly broken my ankle twice. What's the point of having a heel that thin? I can't seriously be expected to balance on that."

I chuckled lightly at her ranting. "You'll be fine," I said reassuringly. "Just put your weight on the heel first, then you get a chance to balance it before putting the rest of your foot down."

She eyed me sceptically. "Yeah, because that makes complete sense, going on the unsteady bit first," she said sarcastically. "Anyway, you don't look so bad yourself."

I laughed. "I feel a bit underdressed, now," I replied, glancing around us as we stepped into the lobby. "I didn't realise it would be so fancy."

"Oh, don't be daft," she said, not looking at me and instead seeming to search the crowd for something, before continuing on through the large double doors to the gambling floor. "You look beautiful, as always." 

The blush in my cheeks was inevitable, but I was certain I saw a slight reddish tint creeping up her neck too. I quickly cleared my throat, deciding to divert my attention elsewhere. This wasn't the time or the place for things like that. 

She eventually seemed to find who she was searching for, and dragged me across the room to wish Jonty a happy birthday. After that, she took me round the various tables set up around. Roulette, blackjack, poker, and various other card games that I had never heard of.I beat her twice at blackjack before dinner, to her frustration, but she somehow managed to win it all back at poker afterwards. Then we decided to work together, and with each throw of the dice she held it up to my lips beforehand for a blow of good luck, just as they did in the movies, holding eye contact the entire time. I felt closer to her and more a part of her than ever. 

About half way through the night, I had left her to go to the bathroom, finally orientated enough to feel confident finding my way back to her afterwards. I was happy, elated, and left the bathroom with a smile on my lips as I headed back to find my best friend. 

But it couldn't last. 

I was stood on a slightly elevated balcony of the room, searching down and across the sea of heads to find hers before I were to attempt my was across. She was stood at the other side of the room, with Jonty and his grandparents. I smiled to myself at how graceful she was, how everyone in a room with her seemed to love and admire her, respect her, look up to her. 

Then the group of waiters stood in front of them dissipated, and I felt a shock like a bullet to my gut as I saw his arm around her waist, the way she was nestled into the crook of his shoulder, both of them as though it were the most natural thing in the world. Her smile illuminated her entire face, genuine and carefree, happy. 

I could be getting the wrong end of the stick, I told myself, she wouldn't do that, would she? Not to me. I had never seen them together before in my life, not even heard it through the grapevine at school. Surely I would have? 

But then, just as I was beginning to reassure myself, his grandmother seemed to say something that made them both smile bashfully, causing her so look to the floor shyly before looking back up, straight at Jonty, tucking her hair behind her ear as she did so. Even from here, I could sense the warmth in their gaze, the fondness there, and I felt sickened as, almost in slow motion, they met for a short kiss so tender and familiar that it was like they were some long-married couple sharing a greeting kiss, held back only by their public situation. 

I let out a sharp, choked breath, unaware that I had been holding it in as I stared in disbelief and agony, my head spinning and my knuckles white, clutching onto the banister for support. How could she do this? And, more importantly, why did I care so much? It's not like we were an item; we had just drunk too much and made mistakes. I wasn't a lesbian. I liked men, and was sure of it. We were just friends. But why did it hurt so? 

I felt suddenly suffocated by the heat of the room, with its bright lights and bustling crowd, and rushed to the front doors for some air. The night was cool and crisp, and I breathed in big gasps that shocked my lungs. I felt shaky, unstable, my knees weak and my heart hammering. I needed to calm down. I recognised a boy from Bernie's rugby team standing just inside the main doors, and nipped back inside to cadge a cigarette from him before going back outside and sitting on the low wall out front. The taste of the tobacco reminded me of her, and made me feel both revulsed and hungry all at once. I was so angry, bitter, horrified, but at the same time agonised and yearning for her, to put my arms around her and kiss her and for her to tell me it was a mistake and that she loved me and... Wait, what? Love?

"Crikey, you must have had too much," I heard her voice ringing playfully from behind me. "Smoking at this hour?" 

I gritted my teeth, desperate not to get emotional. "I'm quite alright, thank you," I replied stonily, praying for her to leave me at that. She didn't. 

"I was looking for you," she continued, coming to sit beside me on the wall, and I consciously shifted slightly away from her. "I thought you'd gotten lost." 

I averted my eyes from her, looking in the opposite direction as I flicked some ash onto the floor. "No, I just needed some fresh air." 

She let out an incredulous laugh, and I saw her nodding towards my cigarette out of the corner of my eye. "I'm not sure about fresh," she said jokingly. I pursed my lips, not responding. 

A semi-awkward silence ensued, my stomach churning and her watching me with concern. I took deep, shaky breaths, trying desperately to calm myself, to rationalise, but I couldn't. 

"Are you o-"

"So when were you going to tell me about you and Jonty?" 

My words were icy, bitter, and she looked at me open-mouthed, frozen like a rabbit in headlights. 

"Or do I not mean enough to you for that courtesy?"

"Serena-"

"Don't bother," I said forcefully, stamping out my cigarette and standing up quickly. "I quite understand." 

"No, you don't," she said desperately, standing up and grabbing onto my arm as I began to walk away. "Serena, please-"

"Do I mean absolutely nothing to you?" I turned on her, fury shaking my every limb. "I was under the impression that we were friends-"

"It's not what it looks like, please," she begged, looking at me with frantic eyes. "I- I'm... It's complicated." 

I tugged my arms out of her grasp, throwing them up into the air incredulously. "I'm all ears," I said, hating the thickness that had suddenly appeared in my voice, giving away how hurt and betrayed I was. 

She took a deep breath, standing a little taller and glancing around herself self-consciously. I heaved a sigh impatiently. She laughed nervously, making my blood boil. I hated her. 

"This is..." She trailed off, running a hand through her hair. She cleared her throat. "I'm his beard, okay?" She said simply, looking at me with fear disguised as exasperation. 

"His what?"

She looked around her again. "He's gay," she said pointedly, her voice hushed. I froze, baffled. 

"But... I saw you," I stammered, my mind racing. "That didn't look like... Like a gay man with a woman. I-" 

"His parents walked in on him and Adam a couple of months ago," she explained, her eyes pleading. "They'll throw him out. We have to convince them it was a one off, a mistake. He's a mate, so I agreed to help him out. It means nothing."

"You kissed him."

"Keeping up appearances," she said genuinely. 

I paused for a moment, processing this information. My pulse throbbed in my ears, my breathing laboured and sorrow and mournfulness suddenly overcoming me as I realised that I should have trusted her better, and realised that I wanted her, _all_ of her, despite how terrifying that was. My heart twisted and tugged in my chest with my feelings, and I couldn't keep my mouth shut. 

"And us?" I said suddenly, my voice cracking with uncertainty. 

"What about us?" She asked, frowning. 

"What is this, Bernie?" I asked slowly, sadness lacing my every tone, and I looked into her eyes just in time to see her heart breaking. She shook her head. 

"I don't know what it is," she said, her voice quickening towards the end to disguise her choked breaths and the lump in her throat. She blinked quickly, clearing her eyes of any tears which threatened to form. "But..." She trailed off, taking a deep breath. "But what I do know, is that my parents..." She swallowed. "My parents follow a religion which explicitly states that... this... is sin." She looked up towards the sky, blinking again and letting out a nervous hum. "And what I do know is that I want to build a career in the army, Serena, and homosexuality in any form is strictly forbidden. I've wanted this all my life; I can't... I _won't_ throw it away." Her eyes looked anguished, her jaw solid and her shoulders tensed as she begged me to understand, to support her in this. And I did. I saw every point she made and I agreed with it, and I knew that this was how things had to be. It still didn't stop the hurt though, the new weight on my chest. I wanted to wrap my arms around her, tell her that it would be okay, comfort her, but at the same time it felt as though a new barrier, a boundary had been created, and I didn't know just where the edges lay. 

"I'm sorry," I said on a sigh. "I just... I don't know what I'm feeling at the moment. It's fine. I'll be fine. I am fine." She looked unconvinced, reaching out to give my arm a squeeze. 

"We'll get past this," she said confidently, tipping my head to look into her eyes so that I could see the steely determination there. I nodded, biting my inner cheeks to prevent any more emotion from spilling out. "And I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner. I just didn't know when would be the right time and I couldn't..." She trailed off, looking up to the sky and blinking again, as if her composure was slipping.

"What?" I asked, looking at her with a slight frown and concern. 

Her gaze fell to the ground. "I..." She seemed to struggle with herself, to articulate her feelings, and let out a choked laugh before looking at me with a small smile. "I was absolutely terrified of losing you." Her eyes were warm and emotional as they met mine, and I smiled back at her. Something seemed to shift, to snap in her eyes, then - a realisation - and I noticed them quickly seeming to fill with moisture before she coughed, clearing her throat, and looked away. 

"We should go back inside," she said quickly, looking up at the doors to avoid meeting my confused gaze. "It's bloody freezing out here. Let's go get a drink." She hugged her arms around herself, as if to illustrate her point. 

I nodded to her, walking towards the door as she threaded her arm through mine. I eyed her knowingly as she began to put her weight on me. "Sore feet?" I asked, with a smirk. 

She gave me an exasperated look. "Agony. As soon as his grandparents leave I'm going barefoot. Unless she makes another remark about how rugby isn't for 'nice young ladies like you' or about my 'unladylike gait'," she mocked the woman's tone. "Then she can stick it - I'll take them off right in front of her, the old boot."

I laughed at her, giving her arm a fond squeeze. "Someone's rubbed you up the wrong way," I smiled. "Why don't you just go the whole nine yards and punch her?" 

She glanced at me, the corners of her mouth curling upwards mischievously, before looking back down to watch where she was putting her feet. "It had crossed my mind, yes," she replied as we ascended the steps to the bar. "But I'll probably never have to see them again after today. They've come up from Devon. And his parents are alright, really, minus the raging homophobia. I can just about suffer them. Plus, Geraldine makes a lovely Shepard's Pie."

I chuckled lightly. "Well, I can't fault your priorities," I smiled, untangling our arms as we both climbed up onto our bar stools, her ordering us both a large glass of Shiraz. She told me all about Jonty and his family, how him and Adam had been together almost two years, a secret kept strictly between their close-knit rugby team. Then one day, the week after we'd been to the Glenn Miller concert, Jonty's parents had come home early from a meal and found them in bed together. Jonty's father had broken Adam's nose and given him a nasty black eye, whilst threatening to cut off Jonty entirely if he were to continue their relationship, and so they had formulated the plan that Bernie would pose as his girlfriend so they they wouldn't feel the need to breathe down his neck as much. And it worked beautifully. 

Despite this, however, and despite understanding entirely where she was coming from, I still felt a deep sadness surrounding the whole thing, and when she was, after a while, dragged away to meet yet more of Jonty's family - his parents seemed to be somewhat showing her off - I felt that my parting smile was unable to quite meet my eyes, and felt instant guilt for it. Who was I to hold her back from her ambitions? Even now, when she was talking about her team and how close they were, always looking out for one another, and the unbreakable fraternal bond there, ("Hence why we haven't won a game in living memory," she had joked with a fond smile. "We're more a family than a rugby team. No one gets in, no one bails out; we stick together.") I could see how perfect she would be in the army, how far her team spirit and ability to bring people together would get her. It was her nature entirely, and I was selfish to want to hold that back. 

Yet I did want to hold it back. I wanted to never lose her from my grip, to hold her and have her by my side eternally. Just the thought of being torn apart, as was inevitable come September, when we would both be leaving for university, made my eyes sting and my throat thicken, my heart racing with loss and anguish. I felt stupid, really. There was nothing to be done. It could not be changed, and didn't change. I just had to face up to it, which meant making the most of every second we had left together. Still, I couldn't quite bring myself to smile about it. Not yet. 

As the night drew to a close, I remained half-slumped over the bar, having finished both her's and mine and making full use of the free drinks. I felt slightly unsteady, but practically sober compared to how we usually ended up on a Saturday night. My mind raced back to last weekend, to the heat of the club and her in my arms as we danced, barely able to hear the music over our racing hearts and aching desire. Then getting off the night bus, 'accidentally' standing too close, fingertips brushing as our arms aligned, drawing one another's attention to the fact that they were there, ready to elicit a scream from whoever happened to give in first. And when we kissed in the warm glow of the streetlights, my hands delving beneath her coat for warmth whilst she held my head in her hands, both tenderly enjoying one another in a kiss which made my heart flutter and my knees go weak and my eyes sting with the sheer depth of it, I should have known, should have recognised that we had crossed a line. I should have seen myself getting in too deep, and pulled away. I should have said no. 

But the kiss was so entirely different to what we had experienced before that it was too good to retract from. It was captivating, earth-stopping, mind-blowing. It wasn't a needy kiss in the way that all of our others had been; it wasn't lustful or prurient. We weren't wrapped up in the aching need between our thighs or lonely desperation for intimacy. It wasn't an accident, or a coincidence. We simply _wanted_ one another, as we were, just like this - tired and cold with messed up hair and makeup and just completely, rawly _us_ in our most basic form. I looked at her, at the lipstick smears on her cheek and the clumps of mascara that had fallen below her eyes, at the dampness of her hair at the roots that the sweatiness of the nightclub had caused, at every tiny imperfection etched into her skin - scars from sports injuries, blemishes, scrapes - and she was beautiful. Absolutely, unequivocally, heart-stoppingly beautiful, and I kissed her because she was her, and because I cared, and because she was my favourite person in the whole world and I wanted her to know that. It was a kiss of love. 

This, though, was instantaneously fought against, the very prospect of any feelings arriving to complicate our relationship striking through both of us like a bolt of lightning, leading us to retreat into our usual routine of fistfuls of hair and grinding of hips and bumping teeth in order to distract from and forget that anything could be out of the ordinary. But the way in which she fucked me, so hard and fast that my vision flashed and my legs numbed, meaning that I had to hold my arms tightly around her neck for support as she ran her tongue and teeth across my collarbone, whilst at the same time being most tender, somehow gentle sex that I have ever experienced - both with others and by my own hand - betrayed our better efforts to disregard our feelings, to ignore them, as we could not stop them from seeping out into our actions, seeping through every pore until we just _felt_ the ache there. Perhaps that's why I was so quick to snap, to give in to irrational anger and resentment at the sight of her with Jonty. Perhaps that's why I was then so filled with sorrow. With loss.  

I was just returning to the bar area from the bathroom when the DJ announced the last dance, and so changed my course to go and fetch my coat from the cloakroom ready for leaving afterwards. I was tired, more than a little drunk, and just ready to sleep. 

_So true_

_Funny how it seems_

_Always in time, but never in line for dreams_

_Head over heels when toe to toe_

"Serena?"

_This is the sound of my soul_

_This is the sound_

I turned around sharply as I felt her hand on my arm, slipping smoothly down my arm and interlacing our fingers, tugging me gently with her to the centre of the dancefloor, so that we were obscured by the slowly swaying sea of bodies surrounding us. I stood there dumbfounded, bewildered, and she offered me a fond smile before taking hold of my other hand and leading them up to rest on her shoulders, untangling her fingers from mine and placing her own hands on my waist, as we always did on a Saturday night, anonymous amongst the sweaty crowds of the Starlight club. 

_Why do I find it hard to write the next line?_

_Oh, I want the truth to be said_

We were silent as we swayed together, her thumb absent-mindlessly drawing agonising circles in the sensitive skin of my waist whilst our heads rested devastatingly close together, and knowing that I couldn't kiss her, show any sign of affection, was killing me. Our cheeks lightly skimmed one another from time to time, our breaths loud in one another's ears and our hearts beating in unison against one another's chests. I eventually gathered the nerve, the composure to voice my thoughts. 

_With a thrill in my head, and a pill on my tongue_

_Dissolve the nerves that have just begun_

"What are you doing?" I murmured, glad of the lack of eye contact caused by our positioning. I felt her tilt her head slightly, so that our cheeks were pressed intimately together and her hair tickled my nose, the scent of her shampoo sending my head spinning and her breaths shallow on my ear as she spoke. 

"It wouldn't be a Saturday night if I didn't have the last dance with you."

_This is the sound of my soul_

_This is the sound_

I tensed up against the emotion that filled me, the heartache and the regret and the loneliness, ever so slightly leaning my cheek closer against her cheek, almost for comfort, closing my eyes to savour the sensation. 

_Always slipping from my hands_

_Sand's a time of its own_

_Take your seaside arms and write the next line_

_Oh, I want the truth to be known_

Her hands found themselves slipping away from my waist, around and slightly up my back as she pulled me tight into her, clutching to me for dear life as we both wallowed in the feelings that could never be vocalised, that could only be communicated through this desperate embrace before being disregarded forever. And neither of us wanted to ever let go. 

We didn't even notice when the music ended, only jerked back to reality by the lights brightening around us. As she pulled back, I notice her wipe a tear from her cheek, clearing her throat forcefully before announcing that she was going to say goodbye to Jonty and his family and telling me to hold the taxi for her. My own cheeks were streaming, and I avoided her eyes as I wiped them, smiling faintly as she gave my shoulder a comforting squeeze before disappearing down the stairs and out of sight. 

The taxi ride was silent, and our legs rested against one another in a way that would have been sexual if it weren't for the tenderness that it communicated. It wasn't unusual for us to be unable to prise ourselves apart from one another, but tonight lust was nothing to do with it. We couldn't separate ourselves from one another because we knew that when we did, that would be the end, and that was too much to comprehend, just yet. 

But the end had to arrive, and as the taxi pulled away from the end of our street we stood for what felt like hours staring at one another, our fingers intertwined and our hearts tearing apart. I wanted to, _needed_ to kiss her, to taste her just this one last time, but I couldn't do it for fear we would lose control. Eventually, she cleared her throat, murmuring goodnight before placing a tender, chaste kiss on my left cheek. I leaned into it, turning my head ever so slightly in the hope that she would meet my lips, but she pulled away, nodding to me before turning, loosening her grip on my hand and allowing it to slip free before retreating into the crisp air of the night. 

:: 

I was snapped out of my daze by the cassette clicking off, thankfully indicating the end of the first side of the tape. The heaviness in my chest had become too much to bear. The feelings that accompanied the memories dragged up by these songs were so vivid, so intense that I could practically feel her on my cheek, her hand slipping from mine all over again until a fresh wave of loss came over me, leaving me feeling empty, and cold. Normally, I would always count on these feelings dissipating quickly, on them being purely a side effect of the wine and the recollection, but this felt so real, and I felt such a shift, that I was lost in a unintelligible cocktail of emotions that could only lead to one thing. 

And now she was getting divorced. 

How selfish was I to feel so jubilant at that?

Then came the first time I allowed myself to entertain the possibility that things could work out between us. 

I could see her, feel her, lying with me on the sofa as I was now, her head in my lap, chatting away about plans for the weekend, or how someone or other had wound her up at work. I would smile down at her, my fingers lightly tangled in her hair, glowing golden in the firelight, and I would lose focus of what she was saying, simply gazing at her instead, immersed in how beautiful she was and how much I loved her and how happy I was that she was finally here and _mine_. Then she would stop, frown up at me as she realised I was no longer listening, and I in response would simply lean down and place a delicate, warm kiss on her lips, my thumb lightly caressing her cheek as I did so, until she lifted her arms up around the back of my neck, deepening the kiss, a small groan escaping her lips as I pushed my tongue inside and our heart rates quickened in unison. 

And then I would take her to bed. And I would love her. And I would wake up with a smile, and her in my arms. 

This fantasy prompted me to realise something. 

I wanted her back.


	6. Love Is A Stranger

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I forgot to update this yesterday, I was too busy rewatching that kiss scene approx. 3990 times ;)
> 
> This chapter is a bit short but the next one is much longer
> 
> Enjoy :)

SIDE B

_Track 1: Love Is A Stranger - Eurythmics_

* * *

For about a week, I cared for nothing, taking every chance I got to be with her, to talk to her, to ask her for a drink. 

Perhaps this was why I was so oblivious. 

_"Small mercies..."_

I should have recognised that tone, that lie that was so obvious it was almost said as sarcasm. I should have recognised the way she turned her head, averted conversation, didn't commit to any definite statement about what had really happened. I should have known. 

But I was so blinded by my pursuit, my one-track mind telling me _just ask her out_. 

_"You act so innocent but I heard them talking about how you cheated on your husband with a woman."_

I felt my stomach drop, and her eyes immediately flit up to mine. She looked terrified. 

They teach us in medical school that anger is a secondary emotion; it is always in reaction to another, deeper initial emotion that the individual does not wish to show. This is exactly what happened next. I was absolutely seething. 

 _"Maybe we should_ both _leave it at home in future."_

The words tore at my throat as I spoke them, my gut twisting sickeningly as I cemented what I saw as the final wall to our reunion. It simply could not happen; it would never work, especially not now. She had lived her life, and I had mine. We had both moved on, forgotten one another, and that's how we should stay. 

Except I didn't forget her. 

How could I ever? 

When I arrived home that night, a sudden wave of emotion overcame me, consumed me almost before I managed to unlock the door. My fingers trembled as I tried to push the key in and tears swelled behind my eyes, ready to rush down my cheeks the second I unclenched my jaw and allowed myself to breathe. Eventually I got in, my legs feeling heavy as I dropped my bag and keys at the front door and allowed the tears to fall. I didn't even know why I was crying, at that point. Good riddance to her had been my attitude all day, but now the sense of loss and disappointment I felt was overwhelming. I had wanted her _so badly_ , had been so hopeful for us, and was partly angry at myself for letting her back in so easily like that, for allowing her to have such an effect on me. 

But what really caused my anger, I knew, wasn't the betrayal, or the immorality of her actions; it was jealously. Would I really have reacted half as bad if she had cheated with a man? I had taken the fact that she had a husband easily, after all. Somehow, the fact that she had had a relationship with another woman, and been in love with another woman, felt like a slap in the face, a definite signal that she had moved on, and we were finished. A ridiculous way to feel, really. She had been married, for Christ's sake, of course she had moved on. But something about not being the only one, as she was to me, made it hurt unbelievably more. 

Over the next week, I made my best efforts to avoid her, though my anger had lessened towards understanding at that point and I felt more embarrassed than anything, after I had overreacted the way I did. And when she told me to see her offer for a lift home as an 'olive branch' I felt further shame for my treatment of her, knowing that it really had very little to do with her indiscretions, as she had assumed. I spent the whole car journey deep in thought, willing myself to say something to her, but couldn't bear to bring it up, for fear of what else might spill from my lips if I did so. Butterflies still swarmed in my stomach, my heart palpitating and my nerves on edge as we sat in such close confinement, so close that I could hear her breaths over the faint murmur of the engine. I would have switched on the radio, but that would risk one of our songs coming on and I think that might be more than I could take, so we sat in silence, brains whirring with the unsaid words which lay between us. 

The following day it was dismissed in a sentence. _"We can draw a veil under all that now."_ It was almost laughable how much time I had spent fretting over how to broach that subject, only for it to be over in less than five seconds. It was, in fact, the distraction which had caused me to forget to take my laptop out of the car. Stupid.

After I was suspended, she asked me out for a drink, again. It seemed to be our 'thing', asking each other out for drinks constantly and declining, as though it wasn't what we had been angling for for the other twenty-three hours and fifty-nine minutes of the day. 

Unfortunately, it had escaped my attention that it was raining quite sharply that evening, ruining my plan to walk home. After some deliberation I decided that it was best to order a taxi, and went and got a coffee whilst I waited. She passed me without realising, as I sat there in Pulses, sipping my latte, and I had to stop myself from calling out to her to come and get that drink with me. I mentally scolded myself. Why couldn’t I take my own advice, and keep away? I had vowed to myself that I would, but as I watched her climb into her car, and imagined what would happen if I were to climb in next to her, the memories were again triggered, and I had barely taken off my coat when I flopped down onto the sofa and flicked on the waiting cassette player.

::

The following Saturday night I almost expected her not to call, thinking it might be better to get some distance for a while, after everything, but still, at four o'clock sharp, she gave me the three rings to let me know that we were still on. Part of me was nervous, and debated calling her back and feigning illness to get out of it, but I could never do that. I couldn't drag myself away from her if I tried. 

I act as though moving on had been easy, as though I no longer wanted to be with her romantically. The truth was in fact the opposite; I couldn't stop thinking about her. No matter the distraction, everything always led back to her. At school, I might as well have not turned up, seeing as the work there was the last thing on my mind. I spent every lesson trying not to steal glances at her, trying not to figure out ways in my head that I could convince her to give us a try, playing out each scenario in which I would tell her I love her, kiss her, and she would reciprocate. I was so preoccupied, on more than one occasion I didn't even notice the bell had gone for the end of lesson. I was starving for her. 

Now, walking up to the bus stop, my knees trembled and my palms were sweaty, and when I saw her standing there, illuminated by the warm glow of the street lamp, I had a desperate urge to run - though whether this were to run away or into her arms, I don't know. She was smoking, a sure pointer that she too was nervous about tonight, and I slowed for a few paces, taking in the sight of her as she blew out steady swirls of smoke, her neck stretching as she tilted her head upwards to do so. I ached to place a kiss there, right on the ball of her throat, and feel her swallowing beneath my lips. I could picture every sensation perfectly, could almost taste her on the tip of my tongue, but it wasn't enough. 

"Busted!" I said jokingly, as I came up behind her. She turned around sharply, then laughed. 

"One won't hurt," she smiled, blowing out a fresh stream of smoke. "I'm stressed out with that bloody awful biology project we've got due on Tuesday. I think I might have left it a bit too late." 

I smirked. "Is that your way of saying, 'please can I copy your biology research, Serena?'"

"That depends," she replied, stamping out the cigarette as the bus came round the corner. "Is that your way of saying, 'you'd be very welcome to use my work as a guide, Bernie'?" 

I bit back a smile, shaking my head at her. "I'll drop it round tomorrow afternoon." 

She grinned at me. "What would I do without you?" 

We boarded the bus both feeling a little more at ease after our light-hearted exchange, but still taking care to keep well apart, knowing that even the slightest touch threatened to unravel our carefully constructed resolve. My heartbeat never slowed, feeling the tension and the unspoken words between us, and we spent a lot of the journey in silence, contemplating, unsure of what to say to one another and instead lost in our thoughts and worries about how we would get through this. I simply could not envision us ever being apart; I wouldn't allow it. But something had to give. 

The club was absolutely packed when we arrived, typical of a bank holiday weekend. The air was thick and sweaty, almost suffocatingly so, and the bar queue about six deep, which wasn't necessarily a bad thing as it made it difficult to go up for quick shots whenever we felt like it. I had decided that it was probably best to not drink as much as usual that evening, not wanting to end up in our usual position around the back of the club at 2am, but after a couple of glasses of wine I still didn't feel quite as in the mood for dancing as I normally would by that point. I felt deflated, in all honesty, and rather than the wine remedying this it instead seemed to amplify the feeling until I felt completely exhausted, emotionally and physically, and just wanted to go home. 

Still, I made an effort to get on the dancefloor, which turned out to be the most detrimental of all. 

I had almost begun to feel better, after dancing for a while, letting loose and allowing myself to relax a little. But then it changed, with a song that hit just a little too close to home. 

_Love is a stranger in an open car_

_To tempt you in and drive you far away_

The repetitive, trippy beats of the song, accompanied with the strobe lights that the DJ seemed to be having fun experimenting with and the lyrics which hit both of us like a train led me to feel spaced out, loose, unbounded. 

_And I want you_

_And I want you_

_And I want you so_

_It's an obsession_

Somehow, almost magnetically, we were lured closer to each other, despite previously having danced as far apart as this bustling crowd would allow, and she was right in front of me, swaying to the beat, her arms in the air, and her eyes firmly on me. They looked hazy and distant, but I knew right there that she was fighting, struggling against this draw between us that seemed unbeatable. I wanted, needed to escape, but just couldn't seem to. She was all-encompassing, everywhere, and I couldn't extract myself from the swing of her hips and the dark need in her eyes. 

_And love love love is a dangerous drug_

_You have to receive it and you still can't get enough of the stuff_

We were so close, so intimate, that my heart felt as though it were being ripped out of my chest with the torture of not being able to touch her, to show her how much she meant to me. But still I couldn't drag myself away. We swayed and twisted around one another, pressed close by the crowds and our loosened control, trying to keep our eyes away from one another, averting them at all opportunities but still finding ourselves drawn together, breaths mingling, hearts racing in unison as we searched each other's gaze, trying frantically to regain our resolve. 

_And I want you_

_And I want you_

_And I want you so_

_It's an obsession_

I felt sick, dizzy, watching her eyes crinkle with torment and restraint, my own jaw tightening and forehead creasing. With each line of the song we inched closer, almost against our will as desperation threatened to take over, the lights and the music putting us in a sort of trance and making us feel separated from our bodies, out of control. I could smell her breath as it tickled my nostrils, Shiraz and tobacco combined, and could feel the heat of her body radiating against mine. Salty perspiration peppered her neck and forehead, and I ached to taste it, lap it up with the tip of my tongue in a long line across her jaw before moving in for an open mouthed, sensual kiss. She was so close, I could almost feel it, taste it, all it would take was an inch...

Then the track changed, the spell was broken, and we both felt sick. We couldn't trust one another to resist, and the stress of it just seemed too much. 

Back at the table, I made a decision. 

"I think I should go home," I said, as quietly as the music would allow, and averting my eyes from her gaze. "I'm not feeling too well. I think I might be coming down with something." The lie caught in my throat as I said it, and I half expected her to call me out on it. Instead, she nodded, with a look of understanding that let me know that she understood what I meant. 

"Yes, of course," she replied. "I suppose I should be getting some rest before I attempt that God-awful biology project tomorrow, too." She drained her glass. 

"Yes," I forced a smile. "I'll make sure to drop mine off for you at a reasonable time tomorrow." I finished of my glass too, before pulling on my coat and grabbing my bag. "Sorry about this."

"No worries," she smiled, but it didn't quite meet her eyes, instead clouded with worry and sadness. And I felt it too. I couldn't bear to lose her. 

The air outside was cool as we made the short walk to the bus stop, hoping to make the 12:30am bus home. But we arrived in good time, and waited silently for it to turn the corner, occasionally attempting to make some small talk as she smoked thoughtfully. 

It was almost one o'clock by the time she thought to check the departure board. 

"Oh fucking hell."

I heard her curse and turned my head in inquiry. 

"What?" 

"Bus strike." 

My stomach dropped as those words left her mouth. "You are joking?" 

She ran a hand through her hair, squeezing her eyes shut in exasperation. "Forty-eight hours, effective 12am, Sunday 1st May." 

I stared at her in disbelief. "What a ridiculous time to have it," I replied, incredulous almost beyond words.

"Bank holiday, isn't it," she ranted. "Thatcher's Britain! They'll probably be on strike again at the end of the month." 

"We'll have to get a taxi," I said, looking around me for a pay phone. "I think I've got just about enough for one." 

"Good idea." 

We must have called at least seven different taxi agencies from across Holby, the shortest waiting time on any of them being five hours, before we finally gave up. 

"Fucking shit buses!" She raised her voice, gritting her teeth. 

"Temper, temper," I chided, raising an eyebrow in amusement. 

She came and sat down heavily next to me at the bus stop. We were silent for a few moments, both contemplating our situation despairingly. I got the sense she was going to suggest something almost a minute before she finally worked up to saying it. 

"We'll have to get a hotel for the night." 

My heart seemed to stop as she said that, and start up again at twice the speed. 

"Jonty has a car. He'll pick us up in the morning." 

I hesitated, staring at the ground, processing, and when I looked up I saw in her eyes that she was having the same reservations as I. But it was this or the streets. 

"Won't that be too expensive?" 

She broke my gaze to nod across the street. "We'll get in one of these B&Bs for a tenner or so. It won't be any dearer than a taxi going all that way." 

I held my breath, staring intently across at her as I began to feel butterflies swarm in my stomach almost sickeningly, and my heart race. Both of us knew the risks that sharing a room for the night held, and neither of us wanted to take them; our friendship meant too much for that. However, at the same time, anticipation was already rising in my stomach, the delicious excitement of the unknown. Surely it was okay to enjoy the thrill, even though I had no intention of acting on it? 

"Okay."

I saw her release a large breath as I replied, and I too exhaled shakily as she stood up, picking out another cigarette from her bag as she did so and lighting it unsteadily. I waited for her to zip up her bag, before following her across the street. 


	7. Temptation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is so late! This has taken me roughly six weeks to write since I got writers block so bad and then also found it really difficult to write, so please let me know how it turned out! This also means I have only half a chapter left prewritten, so there will probably be a bit longer between updates in the future :( I'll try and get them out asap though! 
> 
> Enjoy :)

SIDE B

_Track 2: Temptation - Heaven 17_

* * *

The anticipation that swirled in my stomach was almost crippling and the arousal between my legs insistent as we walked. I chastised myself silently for my inappropriate feelings, for not being able to distance myself from this, but still my knees felt weak as we climbed the steps to the cheapest-looking B&B, next to another nightclub, and my chest heaved as I fought not to look at her, fearful that she would see my dilated pupils, or worse still that I would find that same sight staring back at me. 

_But it's too late to hesitate_

_We can't keep on living like this_

I looked up just at the wrong moment, catching her eye, the lyrics swirling in both our minds. _We can't keep on living like this._ Can we? I quickly looked away. 

_Leave no track_

_Don't look back_

The music blared from next door as I drummed my fingers on the reception counter, waiting for someone to appear, my heart hammering and my legs jumping nervously. I needed to sleep, to escape from this. Though how could I possibly rest, knowing that she was there so close to me? Just a touch away...

My thoughts were interrupted when a rather sleazy-looking old man arrived at the desk, and when I asked him how much the charge would be for one night he looked both of us up and down in a way that made my skin crawl, before asking us whether or not we would prefer to pay by the hour, if _that_ was all we needed it for. 

"The night will do," I replied, pursing my lips in silent outrage. "I trust breakfast is included?" 

He simply nodded to my question with a smirk, and told us that the charge would be twelve pounds for a double, or fifteen for a twin room, and I hastily opted for the latter before Bernie could make any case for the cheaper option. I couldn't deal with that. 

_You’ve got to make me an offer_

_That cannot be ignored_

_So let’s head for home now_

_Everything I have is yours_

We were on the second floor of the hotel - essentially an attic conversion - in one of the three small rooms located up there, consisting of two single beds, a dresser and chair, and an old radio. The hotel, being as cheap as it was, had only shared bathroom facilities, which were on the first floor downstairs. It was grimy to say the least, with broken locks and no toilet seats, and a rather alarming reddish-brown stain on the floor. Needless to say, we went down there together, guarding the door for one another as we did, and both thanking our lucky stars that we had had relatively little to drink. I didn't fancy vomiting in that toilet. 

Painfully sobered by the chill of the room and the ghastliness of the facilities, the atmosphere between us was thicker than ever. In silence, we stripped down to our underwear for bed, keeping our back to one another as we did so. I could smell my arousal as I removed my trousers, still feeling the heat between my legs and fluttery feeling between my hips as visions of her, of us, flashed through my mind, and quickly dived into bed to hide myself, tossing my clothes haphazardly onto the dresser chair as I did so. I averted my eyes as she stood directly before me to do the same, still unable to ignore the image of her long legs and muscular frame in the corner of my vision as I did so, before she too climbed into bed, clicking off the bedside lamp as she did so. 

“Goodnight,” she said, her voice quiet and weak with strain though she tried to sound cheerful. My heart tugged. 

“Goodnight.”

_Step by step and day by day_

_Every second counts_

_I can’t break away_

I made no effort to sleep, though I wanted to. All I could do was stare at the ceiling, willing myself to calm down and think of something else. I couldn’t. She was like a balloon, filling my mind more and more by the second until I felt as though I could explode. My breaths were uneasy, ragged, and part of me wondered if I were having a panic attack. I swallowed deeply, and tried to concentrate on my breathing. In through the nose, out through the mouth.

_Keep us from temptation_

Memories of us behind the club, on the bus, on the walk home flashed through my mind. It was almost as though I could still taste her on my lips, still feel her body pressed flush against mine, still smell the alcohol and tobacco on her breath and taste the saltiness of her skin. The exhilaration, the excitement, the thrill, all fresh in my mind as my desire burned on, desperate for her touch. I remembered the time we had sat on the back seat of the night bus, on the empty top deck, both still giddy from the dancing and the drink but by far more sober than we had been. I remembered her thigh pressed warm against mine as we sat, how we both went silent as we realised, and then the inviting touch of her hand. I remembered how we had looked up at one another, our eyes wide and searching, knowing it was wrong but wanting it all the same, desperate for it, mouths watering and lips heavy as her hand dragged slowly up my thigh until I could hold back no longer, pressing myself to her for a deep, biting kiss, hands already fumbling beneath her blouse, aching for the softness of her skin. Each time she touched me, each little kiss sent sparks shooting through my body and my mind, blinding me to everything else but her, and the connection we had there. I felt so _close_ to her; it was a feeling that I never wanted to lose. 

_Keep us from temptation_

My mind then skipped to the previous weekend, and how we had danced, tears stinging behind both of our eyes as we felt each other slipping away. My heart twisted and ached at the contrast as I recalled the first time we had danced together, giddy and happy and both completely smitten with our newfound companionship, and how I had never wanted to go home. I could stay in her company forever. Each smile, each little glance, each moment she met my eyes lit something inside me, making me feel electric and alive. I wanted to hold her hand, run my fingers through her hair, curl up with her on the sofa and feel her breathing steadily in my arms until we both fall asleep. I could envision the rest of my life with her, could not see a world without her, and it felt like an ice cold bullet to the gut thinking of all the hurdles we would have to face to be together. But I wanted to face them. I would do anything, I realised, sacrifice anything, to be with her. I would wait for her forever. This feeling was so much more than the teenage lust that it had started out as. It was not infatuation, it was not just attraction; I was in love with her. 

_Keep us from temptation_

How easy it would be, in this moment, when she lay just two footsteps away from me, to climb in next to her, wrap my arms around her, and whisper that it would be okay. How easy it would be to reach out and touch her, feel her smooth skin against mine as our bare limbs collided for the first time, warm and inviting and comforting. How easy it would be to press my lips to hers, to dip my tongue inside as our limbs intertwined, breathing heavy and lustful and erratic as we moved together, hungrily devouring one another until we could take no more, collapsing against one another, falling asleep together, dreaming together...

_Lead us not into temptation, ah!_

A rustle of sheets. 

Warmth beside me. 

Hot breaths tickling my shoulder. 

I froze, my breathing quickening, heart pounding. I could feel her bare legs against mine, trembling, and hear the knot in her throat as she tried to speak. She was laid on her side, facing me - that was all there was room for on the small mattress - but I remained facing upwards, unable to look at her, restraint tensing my every muscle. 

Another rustle of sheets, and I felt her hand tentatively placed on my stomach, thumb brushing the sensitive skin there as my nerves twitched and heat shot straight to my core. 

"Tell me to go, and I'll go."

Her voice was hoarse, thick, and unsure, the words almost choked out through her uneven breaths. I stayed still. I couldn't think, couldn't reason, couldn't speak. All I could focus on was her hand caressing my skin, her breaths against me and her leg draped over mine. The silence around us was all-encompassing, the sound of my own pounding heart the only thing breaking it as I attempted desperately to calm myself, to think past my own desire and consider this. I wanted her _so_ badly, it was all I could do not to reach out and pull her to me, fuck her until we could both barely stand, grasp onto her for dear life. But my heart ached with the thought of having to let go again, for her to retreat from me, spent, and all of it meaning nothing. Could I really live with that? 

I was snapped out of my thoughts by again her hand grazing across my stomach, butterflies swarming dizzyingly below her touch as her hand creeped lower and lower, and I found myself unable to hold back from rolling my hips against her hand. I fought harder, biting my lip, closing my eyes, but this served only to heighten the sensation and the throbbing between my legs. My heart jumped and my hips again jerked as she ran a long finger along the waistband of my underwear, my breath catching in my throat as she pushed under the dark lace. 

"Tell me you want me to stop."

A long pause, then she was touching me, and I fought a losing battle to keep my control as she dipped a finger into my dripping heat, causing me to arch into her touch, a bitten-back whimper escaping my lips and my breathing sharp. I ground my teeth, squeezing my eyes shut and holding my breath in a desperate attempt to get my strength back, to refuse. My heart was racing, aching with my torment. I loved her; I wanted to be close to her and touch her and kiss her and be with her always, but I couldn't live like this, I couldn't live as her dirty little secret, something to entertain her whenever she felt like it. It hurt too much. 

I shuddered slightly as I felt her lips on my shoulder, placing light, open-mouthed kisses there as her fingers delicately worked their way up and down my swollen folds. Her lips continued up my neck, her tongue dipping out every now and then to taste the salty perspiration on my skin, and I tensed my jaw impossibly tighter against the reactions of my body as she reached the sensitive spot just behind my ear, drawing a long line with the tip of her tongue before taking my earlobe gently between her lips, causing me to inhale sharply. My eyes stung and my chest felt almost painful with my restraint. I wanted to run, but at the same time I wanted to stay here, in this moment, forever. She was everything, and I had to make a decision. 

The skin of my earlobe felt cool as her mouth left it, her lips tickling my ear in a way which would have made me squirm, were I not so intent on stillness. 

"I love you." 

The words were choked out, accompanied by a sharp intake of breath that could only be recognised as a sob, and her voice thick and croaky. She rested her forehead against my temple, her breaths heavy and shaky as she tried to steady herself, to regulate her breathing. I couldn’t move. My mind raced through a thousand possibilities. She could be lying, could be drunk, or just confused. But I remembered last week, and the torment in her eyes, and the slump in her shoulders as she told me that it had to end there, and I allowed myself to wonder. She had feelings too, but just how deep they ran I didn’t know - her usual robust, steely composure made it difficult to deduce. Now, however, in this hotel, in the dark silence of the night and the icy starkness of the room, she was bare, loose, lost in herself as she told me, again, her voice catching and her chest jerking with emotion. 

“I am in love with you.”

She said it on a sigh that whooshed past my ear like a breath of fresh air, dragging me back down to earth, bringing me to life, and my own held breath came rushing out, my chest convulsing and my heart wrenching as I turned to face her, illuminated by the streetlight spilling through the thin crochet curtains of the room. Her eyes were wide, glistening and searching, her forehead creased and her teeth digging into her lip as she gazed at me. She looked so beautiful, so vulnerable, so scared. The complications of this were immeasurable, the potential consequences devastating, but her eyes, her lips, her heart beating against my arm, let something snap in my gut. The risks, the possibilities, all were worth it unquestionably. All for her. 

I brought up a hand to caress her cheek, feeling wet tears there and wiping them away with my thumb as my own came tumbling down. Her fringe had flopped down into her eyes, and I gently brushed it away, my stomach twisting and turning as though I were on a rollercoaster. I let out another deep breath as my reason dissolved and I was left only with desire. And love. 

My lips found hers almost as if by nature, locking together tenderly as we finally gave in, allowed ourselves to feel, to savour our embraces, to let go. Her fingers retreated from my underwear, instead reaching up to tangle in my hair as we kissed, needing that leverage, that grasp of reality that threatened to slip away, and make all of this a dream. With each little gasp for breath she let out a little murmur, a whimper of satisfaction, of a long thirst finally being quenched as we kissed with every ounce of affection we could physically convey. It was dirty and raw, the intensity of our emotions, though still clad in our least attractive underwear, making us feel more naked and exposed than we had ever been, utterly and completely human and animalistic as her hands, still sticky from my arousal, caressed the smooth skin at the nape of my neck and our bodies clung together with perspiration. Yet somehow it was simultaneously the purest act imaginable: bare, unadulterated love and devotion being explored and communicated in this deep connection, so that I could feel and sense our souls intertwining irrevocably, forever tarnished with the fingerprints of a love so deep it may as well have been written into our DNA. 

And then the kisses became hungrier, deeper as our legs locked around one another, our arms somehow finding ways to pull us closer against one another as our hips collided, rutting against one another as we greedily bit down on one another's lips, tasting and savouring and relishing each other until we could no longer stand any barrier between us. Bras were whipped off, knickers quickly discarded as we scrambled for exposure, to feel entirely vulnerable in one another's company for the first time, to feel that trust between us that could not be broken or reversed. I grasped her arse tightly with both hands, savouring the thick flesh beneath my fingers and the feeling of her hips against mine whilst simultaneously using it as leverage to flip her onto her back, straddling her as the moonlight illuminated her naked torso for the first time, allowing me to take in all her exposed beauty. I paused for a moment, raking my eyes over her goosebump-ridden flesh and her heaving chest as she gazed up at me, eyes dark and twinkling, eyelids hooded and cheeks flushed, lust and attraction lacing her every movement as her swollen lips moved with her deep, laboured breaths. 

“I love you.”

The sureness which laced my words surprised even me, as I realised that there was no question of how I felt towards her. Before, I may have passed it off as infatuation, as lust or even just confusion. But now I was certain. I had fallen deeply, irrevocably in love with my best friend. 

I leant down to kiss her again, to feel the addictive warmth of her lips against mine before slowly making my way down her neck, leaving a trail of wet, open-mouthed kisses until I reached her nipple, swirling around it with the tip of my tongue before taking it in my mouth. She squirmed beneath me, breaths coming heaving and quick as a small whimper escaped her lips, prompting me to grin in satisfaction as I grazed my teeth over the tip before letting go of it with a small pop and hearing her gasp as the cool air hit the wet, sensitised skin there. 

It never fails to astound me just how beautiful she is. No matter what state she was - drunk, sober, dressed up, covered in mud from playing rugby - she always managed to take my breath away, regardless. And now, as I placed warm kisses on her soft stomach, my eyes roamed up to see her gazing down at me with that same awe, the same breathless admiration that I felt. I had never seen her so unguarded as that, and I felt a lump in my throat just knowing that she was mine and I was hers and that this was real. I loved her wholly and completely, with every fibre of my being, so much that it ached in my limbs and my chest, and my hand felt heavy as I lifted it to intertwine my fingers with hers, bringing it down to brush my lips across her knuckle before continuing to kiss downwards, my mouth watering with the desire to taste her on my tongue for the first time. 

She gasped and writhed beneath me, squeezing my hand ever tighter as I peppered kisses along the groove of her hip and down between her thighs. My own breaths were purposefully heavy, teasing her so that she could feel my warm pants against her heat and increase her desperation for my tongue and my lips. 

"Please, Serena," she whimpered, her voice weak and feeble from desire and arousal and her hips lifting as if to guide me to where she wanted me the most. Any other time I would have made her beg, would have waited until she was panting and sweating and moaning and whispering my name over and over, pleading with me to give in. But now wasn't the time for that. Truthfully, I needed her as much as she needed me, needed to taste her, consume her, feel ourselves bleeding into one. 

She exhaled sharply as the tip of my tongue finally met with her slick heat, tasting the flavour that could only be described as _her_ for the first time, sending my head spinning. I could hear her breaths becoming more and more erratic as I worked, her deep groans filling the air as she threw one arm above her head, arching her back and panting as her hand gripped mine ever tighter, as if I were the only thing keeping her down to earth. Over and over she whispered my name, in between whimpers and sighs, her legs draped over my shoulders and trembling as I circled her clit with the tip of my tongue. 

"Ah!"

Her breath caught in her throat as I flicked the tip of my tongue over her clit, her hips bucking against my mouth and thighs clenched tight around the back of my head. I continued my movements, relishing the sound of her losing control beneath me, breaths becoming faster and deeper and whimpers becoming strangled and tight. Faster and faster my tongue worked, the taste of her being committed to my memory forever along with the delicious sounds she was making and the scent of her perspiration and arousal in my nostrils. 

Then, just as I thought I couldn't keep my rhythm up any longer, she came, loud and exhilarated and spent and undone. Her hand never untangled from mine, still gripping tightly as she lost and regained function of her limbs, her whole body trembling and relaxing as her breaths became more languid and even. Instead, she used it to pull me back up to her, to her mouth, and capture me in a long, deep, heartfelt kiss, tasting herself on my tongue and moaning as my tongue collided with hers. I pressed myself long against her, our bare breasts colliding, sticky from perspiration and hot with arousal, until eventually we slowed, instead resting against one another, fitted together as perfectly as a lock and key as exhaustion took its toll, and I found my eyelids drooping. 

"I'm sorry," she whispered, after a long period of silence. Her voice was again thick with emotion, sending my stomach lurching. "For being so afraid."

"Don't be," I replied quickly, holding on tighter to her hand, still entangled with mine. "I'm scared too." 

She looked across at me, eyes wide and watery, vulnerability laced in her expression. "I wish things could be different," she sighed, placing a soft kiss on my shoulder. "I always say that if you're having to keep something a secret, then you shouldn't be doing it in the first place."

I chuckled, though it came out as more of a sob, my throat tight with held back sorrow. "It's not a bad rule to go by," I said, attempting to sound light hearted, but my voice broke. 

She gave me a watery smile. "But this feels so right," she breathed, squeezing my hand. "This feels like the most natural thing in the world. I don't understand..." She trailed off, sniffing. 

"Nor do I," I replied sadly, resting my forehead against hers. "But I love you." The words came out weakly, my voice trembling with fear and torment. "And that's all that matters. For now. The rest will work itself out later."

She met my eyes penetratingly, as if searching them for some trace of doubt, but she was met with only steely determination. "Yes," she agreed gently, on an outward breath. "And I love you too."

I leant forward to capture her lips in mine again, long and languid and savouring. "Let's get some sleep," I murmured against her lips, feeling heavy with both emotional and physical exhaustion. "You've got that project to finish tomorrow, remember," I joked. 

"Yes," she replied with a slight laugh. "You're going to help me though." She grinned at me. 

"Am I?" I teased, raising an eyebrow. 

She smirked. "A problem shared is a problem halved," she recited, placing a persuasive peck on the corner of my mouth. 

"Okay, fine," I said, with fake exasperation. "I'll be expecting some sort of payback, though." 

She kissed me full on the lips then, and I felt rather than saw her smile. "I'm sure I can think of something." 

We fell asleep together soon after, sticky limbs still intertwined and lips mere inches apart, ready for a shaky, terrified yet elated kiss of confirmation as morning came. We were doing this. We had given in. We loved each other, and that was worth the world. 

::

I clicked the tape off. 

Where did we go wrong?


	8. (Keep Feeling) Fascination

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry again this is late. I've just started uni so updates might be a bit more infrequent from now on, but I'm working on it! Hope you enjoy the chapter :)

SIDE B

_ Track 3: (Keep Feeling) Fascination - Human League _

* * *

Being suspended was the last thing I needed, that week. My mind was too much of confusion, questioning, torment. And, above all, if I were to be truly honest with myself, I missed her. I missed having the feeling of her being in the same building as me, even the same ward as seemed to be happening more and more frequently recently. Working with her, despite all my distancing, was the most alive I've felt in my work for a long time. 

I resisted going back to the tape for most of the week, in a failed attempt to again get my emotions in check on the matter, but it was seeming useless. I was head over heels, still, and drawn to her too strongly to fight it off. 

So, the night before returning to work, after Jason had gone to bed I sat once more in my living room with the cassette player and a glass of Shiraz, a light smile on the corner of my lips as I allowed myself to enjoy the memory. 

The next two songs on the tape were a wind up. She knew how absolutely insufferable I found them - mostly due to the fact I could never seem to get them out of my head afterwards. So as the first track began, and the memory came flooding back, already I could feel myself humming along to the song that would be doing my head in for the foreseeable future afterwards... 

::

After that, we continued to rent the hotel room each week, though instead opting for the double option on the excuse that it was cheaper, and both told our parents that we were staying at one another's houses as an excuse for not being home in the morning. 

The weeks and the summer that followed I often regard as the best of my life. I was so happy, so contented, both of us entirely wrapped up in one another and dizzy with love. We made a pact, that first night, that from then on we should be completely honest with one another. It was only healthy, given our situation. Although we were both elated at our union, it was still hard on both of us, having to be so secretive about it, and the constant risk of being exposed, outcast and potentially disowned took it's toll on both of us. Some nights, we would arrive at the bus stop and in one look know what the other was feeling, what they needed, whether that was to get so drunk we didn't know which way was up or to go straight to the hotel room, entirely sober as we held each other, venting in hushed voices and allowing the tears to fall. I have never felt so close to anyone - not even my husband or daughter - as I did to her that summer. We were so exposed, so open with one another that it was almost as though we had moulded into one. All feelings, every thought was shared and revealed. It was perfect. 

That wasn't to say she didn't drive me up the wall every now and then. 

_Click. Click-Click. Click. Click. Click-Click. Click. Click._

I glanced across the room, towards where Bernie was sat, thoughtfully playing a tune with her pen whilst listening to the teacher explain something at the front. 

_Click. Click. Click. Click-Click. Click-Click._

_Click-Click. Click-Click. Click. Click. Click._

As if by telepathy, she looked up at met my eyes, a small smirk creeping onto her lips. I looked down at her pen pointedly, willing her to stop the furious clicking that was starting to drive me insane. The song in question - '(Keep Feeling) Fascination' - had always drove me insane as it was one of those which had the potential to be enjoyable were it not for the fact that it stuck my head like steel to a magnet, subsequently becoming the most irritating thing on the planet at that particular time. But she seemed to misunderstand my gaze, raking her eyes down my body before slowly wandering back up again, making me feel entirely undressed before her and causing a slight blush to redden my cheeks. She grinned at me triumphantly, her pupils dilated and her eyes glistening, making my mouth water and a small groan escape my lips as I imagined what she could be thinking, her glance once more falling down my body… 

And then she looked away, and resumed clicking her pen. 

I rested my head in my hands on the desk, partly in response to how flustered she had made me with just a look and partly due to the insistent clicks that shot through me like bullets. My heart rate had quickened, whether through arousal or irritation I’ll never know, and I clenched my teeth, willing for time to move on faster so that I could get away from that infuriating _click, click, click_. 

I looked over at her again, only for her to quickly look away. Was she doing this on purpose? I kept on staring at her, willing her with my eyes to turn around and look at me again, but she kept her eyes planted firmly on the teacher, her delicate fingers still pressing the top of her pen. Those fingers… 

Another groan rumbled in my throat, shifting uncomfortably in my seat as I struggled to stop myself remembering just where those fingers had been, the way they skimmed over my skin, my lips, my nipples, my...

I took a shaky breath, trying to force myself to concentrate. Still the clicking went on. But now it had surpassed simply irritation and was turning me on, just the image of her slim, soft fingers in my head leading me to roll my hips involuntarily, desperate for her so much that my breasts ached, and my pulse throbbed harder in just the place I wanted her to touch the most...

"For God's sake will you just stop clicking that fucking pen!" I yelled, my fists clenching and my chest heaving. She looked bewildered, staring at me intently like a kicked puppy, and I felt instant guilt. I didn't regret it, though. 

The entire class turned to look at me. I felt a blush rising in my cheeks and looked down quickly. 

"Maybe you would prefer to work somewhere else, Serena," Miss Trent said slowly, raising her eyebrows in annoyance that I had disturbed her class. 

"No, thank you," I replied, taking a deep breath. "I'm quite alright now." I cast an accusatory glance towards Bernie, who had an unmistakable look of confusion on her face. 

I ground my teeth and got back to work, counting down the seconds until I could finally escape. 

::

After the lesson finally ended, I was quick to grab my things and dart out of the classroom, desperate to hide my embarrassment at yelling at her in front of my peers. I tried to go for a walk around the grounds to calm myself down but my heart was beating almost out of my chest, my stomach flipping and my knees weak as, despite my humiliation and anger and the song now buzzing round my head like a blue-arsed fly, I was still gagging for her. The throbbing between my legs was so insistent, so desperate, that it was almost painful. The vision of her fingers slowly pumping up and down on the end of that pen had defeated me, completely annihilated my self-control, until all I could do was rush towards the science block toilets, in a desperate attempt to relieve myself.

I burst powerfully through the door, my bag already slipping off my shoulder as I headed for a vacant cubicle. Desperately, I tried to keep my breathing level as I strode towards the one at the end - smaller than the others, but no less suitable for my needs - and I began to feel some measure of relief at knowing that soon I would have what I wanted.

But then, just as I was reaching the door, I felt a hand snaking around my hip, another one gently muffling any sounds I made as she whispered, “Let me make it up to you.”

If I had thought I was aroused before, then God only knows just what it was that I was feeling in that moment. My knees threatened to buckle beneath me and my sex throbbed painfully, desperately aching for her touch. I managed to choke out a response. “You sure had better.”

She chuckled lightly, no doubt conscious of the other students in the cubicles beyond us, and the small vibrations sent by her chest being pressed flush against my back made my bite my cheeks to stifle a deep, lingering groan. She pushed me lightly towards the empty cubicle, still pressed against me and her hands dangerously close to my waistband, her lips lightly brushing against the exposed skin of my neck as we went. I felt sweaty, hot, suffocating as I began gasping and panting with want, trying desperately to steady my breathing and failing miserably. 

Once safely inside, the door locked, she pressed me flush against the wall, the cool concrete offering temporary relief to the heat which burned my cheeks, before breathing in my ear, “Tell me.”

I swallowed hard. “Uh,” I gasped, my vision almost blurry with need. “Just… Just touch me… Please… I need you inside…” 

Her lips fastened themselves to the base of my neck, and I felt her smiling against me as I arched into her. 

“Like this,” she growled, lowering her hand so that it lightly brushed the fabric of the front of my slacks, leading me to gasp as her hand started to press lower, between my legs. 

“More,” I whimpered, as quietly as I could manage, and she lifted one hand back up over my mouth, placing soft, wet kisses along the sensitive skin of the back of my neck as she did so. 

Her hands skimmed torturously down the inside of my thigh, before moving back up slowly unbuttoning my trousers. I moaned in satisfaction. 

“Shh,” she replied quickly, taking her hand away. “Or I won’t…”

I nodded urgently. “Please,” I whispered. 

I felt her breathe in deep the scent of my short, cropped hair as she allowed her hands to wander inside my slacks, cupping me over my knickers and prodding insistently at my heat.  She let out a deep, shaky sigh of satisfaction which resonated right through me, provoking me to grind myself desperately against her hand, begging for relief. 

“How much do you want me?” She whispered in my ear, her breath hot and her lips tickling as my own breathing became increasingly shallow and frantic. 

“So much,” I whimpered, too turned on to coherently articulate anything more and rolling my hips so that they both ground against her hand and against her body, pressed close behind me. 

“Tell me,” she growled, tracing circles across my underwear, making me wetter and wetter by the moment. 

“In class today…” I gasped, my eyelids fluttering and my knees shaking. “I would have fucked you right then and there… Your fingers… I was so desperate for them…”

I felt her chuckle against me, dotting light kisses along the back of my neck. “Did you touch yourself?” She murmured against me. I groaned aloud. 

“I was going to,” I whispered. “Before I was so rudely interrupted…” 

“Oh well then,” she replied simply, in mock nonchalance, her hands retreating from my trousers. “I’ll just go then-“

“No!” I gasped, just a touch too loud. We froze for a moment, listening, before going on. “It wouldn’t be enough,” I continued. “I need… you.”

I felt her delicate fingers poking beneath the waistband of my underwear at this, and bit back a shriek as I felt her delve through my soft curls and straight into my swollen, wet heat. 

“Oh… God!” I gasped, my hips bucking into her hand. “Fuck!”

“Shh,” she insisted, delving ever deeper into my core. I bit my lip hard, to the point of tasting blood, such was my desperation for her to touch my now agonising arousal. Her cool fingers traced my clit, her thigh placed expertly beneath mine to prevent me from collapsing to the floor, and I bit down harder against my cheeks, grinding myself against her hand, desperate for her relief. 

She curved her neck around me to place a gentle kiss on the pulse point which she knew I loved so much, making me shudder. “Perfect,” she whispered, before slowly, delicately inserting a first finger into me, causing my knees to buckle. 

She held me up, her practiced fingers curling towards herself to almost instantly reaching my G-spot, and I couldn’t help but groan. 

“Shhh!” She hissed again, her hand clamping firmly over my mouth as she inserted a second finger into me, a third, pumping in and out of me with such finesse and expertise that it made my vision flash and my eyelids flutter. She continued harder, faster, and whether or not she inserted a fourth finger I’ll never know, I was so consumed by euphoria. 

“I…” I gasped against her hand, my hips bucking desperately and her thumb brushing my clit as her fingers worked. She chuckled again, knowing by now exactly how to tease me, how to please me and she placed slow, deft kisses along the length of my neck, before reaching the base and biting hard. 

“Ah!” I shrieked, muffled by her hand, as my orgasm tore through me. She rode through it with me, continuing her actions until I went limp in her arms, then holding me as I rested, placing gentle kisses along my neck and shoulders.

"Better?" She murmured eventually, a wicked glint in her eye as she raised an eyebrow at me. 

I nodded slowly, a faint, tired smirk on my lips. "For now."

She opened her mouth in mock outrage. "Greedy!" She scolded, placing another kiss on the side of my neck with a grin, before reaching around my waist to tuck my blouse back into my trousers. I span round to face her, my movements still languid from fatigue. 

"I love you," I said gently, with a light smile. 

She beamed back at me. "I love you too," she mumbled as she pressed her lips to mine one final time, before turning to peek through a crack in the door. "Wait five minutes then come out, just in case." 

"Okay," I agreed, patting my hair back into place and double checking that all my buttons were done up. 

She exited the cubicle, closing the door to behind her and striding confidently out of the room. But as she went, she began to hum again that maddening tune. 

I would definitely get her back for that. 

:: 

Back at work the next day, still the song repeated in my head. 

_Keep feeling fascination_

_Passion burning_

_Love so strong_

I tried my best to be normal around her, but my head was spinning with plots and ideas of how to tell her how I felt. That old love, the love that had never really gone away, burned in my stomach like a star, igniting in me a determination to recover what I had lost. What _we_ had lost. 

Assuming she felt the same. 

I was at the nurses station reading through some notes when I heard her behind me. 

"I thought you hated that song," she said quietly, stood close beside me, her voice low and intimate. I hadn't realised that I had been humming the tune out loud. _Shit._

"It is rather catchy," I replied steadily, but one look into her eyes revealed all. That playful stare of hers, the look that always told me that she knew what I was up to, sent my pulse racing and my head screaming. _She knows I remember. She knows I have been reminiscing_. What did I have to lose? 

"Would you like to go for a drink later?" I asked suddenly, my lips moving on autopilot before my brain could rationalise my actions. No going back now. 

She paused, still meeting my eyes, searching. "Yes," she replied finally, an assured smirk on her lips. "You're on." 

A heavy breath of relief. "Albies?" 

"Of course," she grinned, standing a little straighter. "I'll meet you in your office at the end of the shift?" 

I nodded, unable to produce words further. She stood awkwardly in front of me for a couple of moments, as if she were about to say something else, but then with a small 'see you later' she was gone. 

It was all going so well. 

_"Glad to see you taking Ms Wolfe's presences with such good grace."_

_"Oh, well... We're one big happy family here on AAU Henrik, you know that."_

_"Nevertheless, some departmental heads wouldn't be so generous about allowing another surgeon to oversee their ward."_

My stomach dropped with the sickening sense of betrayal his words had evoked. How could she? After everything? 

_"Were you ever going to tell me you're here to babysit?"_

I saw the panic in her eyes at my words, panic that I instantly took as a guilty conscience, rather than her panic that I had gotten the wrong idea. 

_"If I had said no they'd have asked someone else, and I wanted to make sure that the person working with you had your back."_

After all these months of knowing her again and the new friendship and alliance that we shared and I treasured, still I couldn't bring myself to trust her. Maybe it was because of her relationship with Alex. Maybe it was because she left me, all those years ago, seemingly without a second thought. My brain seemed to too easily jump to the conclusion that she was lying, that she didn't care. But now this. Again, my instincts proved wrong. She was on my side, fighting my corner, as she always did. And I was a fool to forget that. 

Then I discovered her gift, amongst all the litter strewn across my desk, and my heart lurched as though some invisible force were trying to tear it from my chest. It was so kind, so thoughtful. After all these years, still, I felt, she knew me almost as well as I knew myself. Somehow, despite our arguments and my distrust, we still managed to be undeniably on the same page, instinctively level with one another. 

I knew what I wanted, and what I had to do. 

_"So you're both going to run AAU?"_

Raf's disbelieving tone somewhat mirrored my own feelings on the matter. Could we really pull through? The determination was there though; I saw it reflected in her eyes and couldn't help but hope. The day's events had led me to the conclusion that I had been too hasty in wanting to spill my feeling to her tonight. My mind was in too much turbulence. I was too unsure of what I wanted. But the easing of my workload wasn't the only perk of having her co-lead with me. I could work out my feelings and desires, rebuild our relationship and our trust more carefully and see if we could really stand each other in such close conditions. I wanted to resurrect that 'partners-in-crime' dynamic we once had. Us against the world. A team. A force to be reckoned with. 

And the biggest change in my attitude, from that day, was that I gave up fighting. I wanted her, and there was no use in denying it. My feelings had grown too strong, my head preoccupied with her so much that it felt ready to burst and to repress this would only make it worse. Though I wouldn't yet reveal my feelings, I needed to explore them for myself. I needed to forgive and forget, and to figure out exactly what it was I wanted. 

Next morning I woke with a new lease of life, an unrivalled optimism that put a spring in my step and a flutter in my heart. And the lyrics still buzzed around my head. 

_Keep feeling fascination_

_Looking, learning_

_Moving on_


	9. It's Raining Men

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if this is a bit of a filler chapter, but I suppose I've got to have some fluff somewhere ;) More plot in the next chapter  
> Enjoy!

SIDE B

_Track 4: It's Raining Men - The Weather Girls_

* * *

 

A few weeks later, Sixth Form came to a close and we were finally set free for study leave in the run up to our final A Level exams. We spent many afternoons revising together, either at home whilst our parents were at work or in the park if it were a nice day, seeing as Bernie loved the outdoors so much. I much preferred the afternoons inside, though. My bedroom felt like a cocoon, enveloping us and sheltering us from all the negativity we faced, all the little voices in our heads telling us that it was impossible that we could lead normal, successful lives together should people find out. No risk of disownment, of discrimination or being outcast. Just us. 

We still went out every Saturday night too, dancing until the early hours and watching the summer sunrise through the old, netted curtains of the hotel room as we lay intertwined, lazy from our orgasms and fading alcohol levels. Sometimes we would put on the old radio in the room and sing along together, or challenge one another to name the current song quickest. I tried my best to cover the fact that I hadn't been much of a follower of pop music until I met her, and would happily take to the grave the fact that I had even gone to the extent of practicing my musical knowledge in order to impress her when we started going out. It had paid off though, as I could well match her in our little game. Still, there was one song that I missed...

Though school had finished, the district rugby league still ran up to the end of July, and so each Saturday morning she would still head off with the lads for their game whilst I was at work and be back in time for us to go out later in the evening. This weekend, however, their game was further afield, in a town on the outskirts of Holby, and so the team had decided to make a night of it and stay over, and come back the next morning. 

“You should come with us,” she said to me as we lounged on her bedroom floor, bits of classwork and various textbooks strewn across the carpet. “It is a Saturday night, after all.” She grinned. 

“I’ve got work in the morning,” I replied, shaking my head. “You’d have left by the time I’m done.” 

“Get the train,” she insisted, picking up an apple from the vast array of snacks we had managed to acquire for long afternoon of studying. “It’s only twenty minutes; you’ll even catch the end of the game.” 

I chuckled. “Now _that’s_ a sight I can’t turn down,” I teased, smirking. “Won’t the other lads mind my invading?”

She shook her head, holding her hand to her mouth as she chewed. “No, they think you’re great,” she said, swallowing. “They’ll be happy for you to join us.”

“They’ve met me once,” I said skeptically, raising an eyebrow. “And in arguably not the fittest of states either.” 

She laughed. “Don’t worry, they’re fine.” She looked down at the paper in her lap, hair falling across her face, as if hiding. She tucked it behind her ear, and looked back up at me with a somewhat guilty-looking smile. “Just be prepared for a bit of winding up, but it’ll no doubt mostly be directed at me.” She met my eyes, gaging my reaction to her words.

“What do you mean?” I frowned at her, the corners of my lips turning upwards at her blushes. 

She cleared her throat. “Well…” She began, toying with the apple in her hands. “A couple of months ago, _someone_ ditched Dukes’ birthday party to go out with you. Then at the next practice turned up in the showers covered in bite marks.” She raised her eyebrows at me.

I froze, my mouth gaping. “You told them?”

“I didn’t have to,” she laughed, before sighing. “I denied it profusely, but then they saw how we were together at Jonty’s party, the way I looked at you…” She trailed off, again allowing her hair to fall over her eyes. “I, erm… I gave in and told them about… what had happened,” she glanced up at me shyly, “and they talked some sense into me. ‘Grow some testicles’, I think were Aaron’s exact words.” 

“Metaphorical, I hope,” I replied dryly, with a small smile. 

“I think you’d have noticed by now if it were not,” she joked, looking up at me from under her fringe with a shameless grin and causing a slight blush to rise in my cheeks. I stared at her, the vulnerability in her words and in her eyes. She worked so hard to make other people think she was bulletproof. Her pride was invaluable to her, and her feelings kept under lock and key always, her heart and her spirit on her sleeves in only the most superficial way. There was such a world of her, underneath, that I had yet to explore; each day, I saw a different side of her, some new insecurity or weakness she trusted me with. And it was the best feeling in the world. 

I reached over and placed my hand over hers. “I love you.” 

She blushed, as she always did when I told her this, looking down at our joined hands with a smile. “And I love you,” she replied, jerking her head up so as to flick her fringe out of her eyes and gazing at me. I squeezing her hand, tugging it towards me gently and prompting her to shuffle over to me. I let go of her hand, instead wrapping my arm around her shoulders and pulling her to me, leaning us both against the bed frame at my back. We sat like that for a while, content in one another’s embrace, allowing ourselves a welcome break from studying, until a sudden incredulous realisation broke the silence. 

“Wait, you _shower_ with them?”

::

No sooner than I had stepped off the train the following Saturday, the skies opened with a rain storm so heavy it was almost biblical, to the extent that I could barely see the bus approaching to take me to the sports club at which she was playing and I wondered if the match may have been called off. 

However, as I arrived the rain had lessened slightly, and I could see from the bus that they were still playing. I could pick her out immediately, with her golden blonde hair tied up high on her head and her stance that made absolutely clear to anyone in doubt that she was the one in charge here. It made me laugh, how authoritative she was; she was the only female player in their league, and often faced sexist remarks and comments because of this, particularly at away games where a lot of players found it absolutely ludicrous that she be on the team, never mind being the captain. But a couple of minutes on the pitch and all that changed. She might not have been the strongest player, but the way in which she commanded the respect of all of those around her and her natural knack for leadership and fair play quickly crushed any prejudiced opinions that the opposing team may have formed of her. It was in these moments that I was reminded that I was soon to lose her, my mind flashing forward to a vision of her in her army uniform, commanding troops rather than players and standing in the centre of a field hospital instead of this muddy sports ground. I felt such a mix of emotions, watching her out there: pride, sorrow, admiration, fondness, love. 

The game went on for another twenty minutes after I arrived, finishing with a solid tie, which was as good as a win in their eyes. Unfortunately, the rain continued for the duration, and so by the end of it I was well and truly soaked through to the bone. As she walked towards me and took in my drowned appearance I saw her eyes light up in jest and heard a loud chuckle burst from her mouth. I pursed my lips, bracing for the inevitable torment. 

“Don’t bother,” I narrowed my eyes at her. She grinned in return. 

“Someone’s been taking The Weather Girls’ advice a little too seriously,” she teased as she strode nearer to me. I frowned. “You left your umbrella at home,” she continued, by way of explanation. 

“No, actually I missed the forecast,” I replied through gritted teeth. “Hence the lack of an umbrella.” 

“Not that weather girl,” she laughed, reaching out for a hug, only for me to bat her away, not wanting to get mud all over my clothes. Not that they weren’t already a mess. My frown deepened. 

“Which weather girl?” I asked, squinting through the water that had run into my eyes. 

“‘It’s Raining Men’,” she answered, smiling at me as I lifted my hand up to pick a clump of grass out of her fringe. 

“I think that mud must have soaked through to your brain.”

She laughed. “Funny,” she said, her eyes boring into mine. “Are you seriously telling me you don’t know what I’m talking about?” 

I shook my head. “I do worry about you sometimes.” 

She grinned. “Jonty!” She turned behind her to call over her friend, who was stood talking to a couple of players from the other team. He excused himself and strode over. 

“What’s up?” He asked as he neared. His eyes fell on me and his lips turned upwards into a fond smile. “Wotcha, Serena. Been listening to The Weather Girls, have you?” 

Bernie’s face lit up. “Ha!” She exclaimed in victory, raising her hand to hi-five her friend. “Yes! Told you! Can you believe Serena doesn’t know that song?”

“Oh my god, really?”

I sighed heavily, rolling my eyes at them. “Oh, go get showered and leave me alone.”

She laughed, a loud, brazen, hearty laugh that warmed my heart, reaching out and squeezing my hand in fondness as she turned to Jonty with a grin. “We’ve got to get that on later tonight,” she plotted, casting a smirk at me as we began walking towards the changing rooms. “When everyone’s drunk enough to join in.” 

He agreed. “That’ll be about six o’clock then,” he joked.

She nudged him with her elbow. “Don’t,” she warned, but she was smiling. 

As we reached the entrance to the changing rooms, I held back. 

“Are you not coming in?” She raised her eyebrows at me. 

“Of course not!” I replied incredulously. “You might be okay standing about in a room full of naked men, but I’m really not.” 

“No,” she laughed, squeezing my hand and pulling me along with her. “I don’t go in at away games. It’s just at our school they only have one shower room on the sports field. And I wouldn’t go in with a room of strangers!” 

She dragged me through to the women’s locker rooms, letting go of my hand to begin undressing as we approached where she had left her things on a bench next to the showers. As was her nature, she discarded her soiled clothes on the floor, kicking off her boots so that they landed on the pile and quickly pulling off her socks before sauntering off into the showers, singing as she went along. 

_“I’m gonna go out, I’m gonna let myself get absolutely soaking wet!”_

“That makes two of us!” I called to her jokingly, shivering as I bent down to pick up her dirty clothes and put them in her sports bag. I heard her laugh as she showers turned on, and smiled at hearing her singing so enthusiastically. 

“Serena?” She shouted over the noise of the shower. 

“Yes?”

“Come here a minute.” 

I rolled my eyes, folding my arms against my shivers as I strode over to the shower room. 

“Yes. What is it?” 

I poked my head around the corner of the door, and as she turned around I saw a wicked glint in her eye that I would have recognised anywhere. 

“No.” 

“You’re freezing!” 

“No.” 

She grinned at me, stepping across the steam-filled room and taking both of my numb hands in hers. She lifted them up to her mouth, placing soft, warm kisses over my knuckles as she squeezed my fingers. I pursed my lips, eyeing her amusedly as she made a show of inspecting my fingernails before lifting my arms so that they slumped around her shoulders, placing her own hands on my waist, and leaning forwards for a slow, deep kiss that elicited a low, guttural moan, taking even myself by surprise.

I felt her grin against my lips. “Still saying no?” She murmured, her hands already moving to push my jacket from my shoulders. 

I shook my head, intending to refuse, but my body seemed to have other ideas as I felt my arms wrap more tightly around her so that I could feel her curves moulding to mine through my clothes. She pulled my bottom lip with her teeth, a gesture she knew that I couldn’t resist, and I was lost to the burning between my legs.

“Just make sure my clothes are hanged up, okay?” 

She made a little grunt of victory, her hands moving up to knot in my hair as she pushed me towards the far wall where there were some towel hooks. I shrugged off my jacket, blindly fumbling behind me to hang it up as she kissed me hard and fierce, already rolling her hips against mine wantonly and allowing breathy whimpers to escape her lips, making my stomach flip and my knees weak. 

Together, we made quick work of stripping me down until finally my cold limbs collided with hers. She tugged me back with her under the faucet, her lips fastening on the base of my neck as the water came down scalding hot on our skin. 

“No love bites,” I panted as I felt her teeth graze my collarbone. She laughed. 

“Spoilsport.”

“I don’t have anything to cover up with.” 

“Ah.” I felt her grin against my skin, her fingers digging into my arse as she slipped a thigh in between my own as rutted gently, gasping lightly as she did so. “I’m sure I can think of a way round that.”

I opened my mouth to object, but she instead took this moment to lift her lips back up to mine, her arms squeezing me closer as she nibbled on my bottom lip and ground down on my thigh, sending sparks right through me. My body felt electric with the mix of sensations: her lips on mine, the steam filling my lungs, the burning hot water on my skin, the way her hard nipples felt against my breasts as we pressed together, our bodies slick with the water. Our kisses were biting, bordering on violent as we desperately devoured one another, tongues battling and breaths gasping. I knotted my fingers in her hair, pulling it tight and causing her to groan as she lifted one of my thighs  around her hip, so that she was stood between my legs. 

“I do love you,” she murmured against my lips, her nose bumping with mine and our foreheads resting together. 

“I love you too,” I whispered between kisses, rocking my hips against her. She grinned happily, and I made a small noise of protest, begging to feel her lips on mine again, but instead she grasped tighter onto the leg wrapped around her waist, using it as leverage as she crouched down in front of me, and when I realised her intention I had to grasp onto the tap for support, fearing my legs would give way beneath me. 

My breath caught in my throat as I felt her lips on the inside of the thigh that was now held up by her shoulder, hot, open mouthed kisses that burned and seared my oversensitised skin. She continued her trail, her kisses becoming harder, with more teeth and tongue, and I couldn’t help but buck my hips towards her, aching to feel that hot pressure against my throbbing arousal. She hummed in amusement, her lips fastening on a sensitive spot near the top of my thigh, causing me to gasp aloud and my legs to wobble as adrenaline surged through my veins. 

“Please.”

She chuckled, nipping the skin with her teeth. “Impatient.” 

“You’re the one that couldn’t wait a couple of hours ’til we got-”

I near shrieked as she finally allowed me what I wanted, running her tongue in long, hard licks between my folds. My legs trembled, by head spinning and my nipples aching as I rocked slowly against her mouth, my free hand tangled in her hair as she dipped her tongue inside me.  

“Mmmh.”

The vibrations of her lips knocked the breath out of me, my chest rising and falling rapidly as she licked and sucked and tasted. I remember how beautiful she had looked as she glanced up at me, her cheeks glistening - though whether this was from the water or whether it was in fact my own juices peppering her cheeks, I'll never know. The look of mischief and pure, shameless love and passion glowed in her eyes, her tongue poking out to lick her lips before she dove back in, swirling the tip of her tongue around my clit and making me cry out. 

She quickened her pace, making little murmurs of indulgence as I moaned and writhed, clinging onto the hot metal of the shower for dear life as my knees wobbled with the burning, agonising arousal between my legs, throbbing and aching and pulsing as her delicate tongue kept working. My hips bucked wantonly, my back arching as I felt myself building up, felt my breaths coming more and more shallow and unable to stop high pitched, uninhibited wails escaping my lips as the faucet ran across my nipples and her hands grasped at my arse, pulling me impossibly closer to her, and suddenly I was gone, coming with a shriek and a whimper and my knees giving way, luckily held up by her strong arms around me. 

As I came back to my senses, she lifted my legs from her shoulder, and with a small groan pulled herself back up, steadying herself before kissing me full and wet on the lips. 

“That was really loud,” she giggled against my lips, her forehead pressing against mine. 

“Oops,” I breathed, still regaining myself. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be.” She kissed me again. “I enjoyed it.” She looked at her wristwatch. “However, we are now _really_ late.”

“Don’t blame me,” I chuckled, shaking my head. She smiled at me, a soft, affectionate smile that warmed my stomach. 

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” she replied, and with one final peck to my lips bent down to pick up her shampoo.

::

As expected, we boarded the minibus to a round of jeers and wolf-whistles. 

“Shut up, you lot,” Bernie chided, though she was unable to hide her smirk. 

“Christ, how long does it take to get a shower?”

“We had to dry Serena’s clothes.”

“Eye, eye.” 

We sat down at the front of the bus as laughter erupted around us. My cheeks tinged pink, and I noticed that hers were the same, a sheepish grin on her lips. 

“Oh, take your minds out of the gutter,” she raised her voice over the cheers, though her eyes were sparkling with fond amusement. “Nothing happened.”

Simon poked his head in between our seats. 

“Is that why Serena smells of your shampoo, then?” 

She opened her mouth to protest, but a moment’s hesitation was all that was needed for the rest of the team to see straight through her, and she knew she was fighting a losing battle. 

“I’m so sorry about this lot,” she complained to me, rolling her eyes. “Eighteen going on three, the lot of them.” She raised her voice for effect, but this only prompted further laughter. 

“Don’t worry about it,” I smiled, rather enjoying the thrill of it all. I leant over to her, murmuring in her ear, “It was worth it.”

::

That evening, as always true to her word, Bernie managed to get all of her team up and dancing, somewhat unsteadily, to ‘It’s Raining Men’, whilst I watched in hysterics. Despite still not having a clue what the hype was, the sight of her in the middle of a fairly trendy night club surrounded by a crowd of burly rugby players all waving about to such a cheesy pop song had me in stitches, particularly as I looked around at the bemused looks on the faces of the other people in the club. 

“So,” she announced, beaming at me as she sauntered up to the table at which I was sat. “That, Serena McKinnie, is what you’ve been missing out on.” 

I wiped a tear from the corner of my eye. “That was certainly something,” I replied as Jonty approached. “I’ll not forget that in a hurry, that’s for sure.”

“Too right!” She agreed enthusiastically, throwing her arm around my shoulder and squeezing me to her. “I’m gasping, do you want anything from the bar?”

“Another Shiraz would be great, thanks.”

“Jonty?”

“Pint of lager, if you don’t mind, Bern.”

She nodded at us both with a drunken grin before rushing off to the bar as Jonty took her seat beside me. 

“You know,” he began, draining the last of his previous pint. “I think this is the happiest I’ve ever seen her.”

“Yes, she is rather tipsy, isn’t she?” I replied with an affectionate smile, my eyes following her as she tottered up to the bar and slumped on the counted. 

“No, I meant with you,” he continued seriously. “ I’ve never see her so… content.” 

I felt a lump form at the back of my throat. “Well,” I answered, fighting to keep my voice clear. “She’s not the only one.” 

He chuckled softly, watching her fondly as she stood chatting to some of the other players at the bar. “Nevertheless, thank you.”

I turned to look at him and saw in his eyes the depth of his words; it made my heart ache and my eyes threaten to water. “I could say the same thing to you,” I deflected, looking back across at her. “I don’t know where she’d be without you lot.” 

He nodded. “I think that could be said for most of us,” he smiled, but as I turned back to him his face became serious. "You know, she was really cut up after my party."

"Yes, she mentioned that you all had 'talked some sense' into her." 

He nodded. "There was that," he replied, shifting in his seat so that I could hear him better over the loud music. "She won't like me for telling you this, but on the Sunday afternoon when she was round at ours for dinner, she was so... distracted, like she wasn't really listening to anyone, you know? My mum thought she was sick. Well, when we eventually got some time on our own, I mentioned you; she just burst into tears.” 

I blinked. “Seriously?” 

“Yeah. Sobbed into my shirt for a good half an hour. I’ve never seen her like that - _ever_. Even when Holby United got relegated last year,” he joked, offering me a small smile. “I agreed to take it to the grave, but the rest of them had already sussed. And we don’t keep secrets, really. Open books, the lot of us.”

I swallowed thickly. “Thank you,” I said eventually, looking him straight in the eye. “For being there for her. Like I said, she’s lucky to have you all.”

He nodded. “You know what I’m going to say now, don’t you?” He raised his eyebrows. 

I cleared my throat. “‘Break her heart and I’ll break your legs’, by any chance?” 

“Am I really that predictable?”

“It’s only understandable that you should feel that way.” I chose my words carefully. “You have my word. I promise.” 

He stared at me, scrutinising, but there was a softness in his eyes too that grew with each moment that passed until he broke out in a grin. “Good.” He held out his hand to me.

“Good,” I repeated, reaching out to shake his hand, only to be pulled into a somewhat rough bear-hug.

“Welcome to the family.”


	10. Brown Eyed Girl

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Flash forward a couple of months now, some time around July :)

SIDE B

_ Track 5: Brown Eyed Girl - Van Morrison _

_ Missing Track: Flashdance... What A Feeling! - Irene Cara _

_ Missing Track: Annie's Song - John Denver _

* * *

“If we’re supposed to be co-leading, how come you make all the decisions?” 

“Because someone’s got to keep some order around here. You’d happily turn this place into a field hospital if I gave you half a chance!”

“Not true, but what would be the problem with that? We’d definitely get through the patients quicker and cleaner.”

“Because we’re not in bloody Kandahar, that’s why!” 

“How is that relevant?”

“It’s not happening - end of.” 

I grabbed the nearest patient file as she made a noise of irritation before stomping off in the other direction. I don’t know what triggered it, but I had woken up in a foul mood that morning, and as always she was the one to grind on my nerves. Despite my resolving to be amicable with her whilst trying to work out my feelings, and hers, the tension between us continued to thicken. I felt like screaming at her. How could she just carry on as normal, as if none of this phased her whatsoever, whilst I was in such turmoil? I didn’t know just how much longer I could keep my composure. 

_Miss Caroline Trent: severe abdominal pains, bloody stools._

I froze. 

No. 

Could it be?

I looked up across the ward, to the little old lady staring back at me from Bay 4.

"Well I never!"

Her voice carried across the ward sharply, turning a few heads as it did so. Just like it so often had in the classroom, all those years ago. 

I quickly rushed over, desperate to avoid any of the other staff discovering our connection, and more importantly to prevent her from discovering Bernie. We had so carefully concealed the fact that we had been at school together, and the fact that we had done so was bound to raise some questions, should the truth out. 

"Serena McKinnie! I thought it was you!" She enthused as I approached her bed, her eyes twinkling nostalgically and her thin, aged lips twisted up into a warm smile. "How are you?" 

"I'm very well, thank you," I stated, desperate to keep the attention away from myself and our relationship. "And what can I help you with today?"

"And was that Berenice Wolfe you were bickering with just now? Some things never change, I see."

I winced inwardly. 

"Let's just concentrate on you for now, shall we?" 

She nodded happily. “Yes, of course.” 

I got to work on assessing her, my mind racing as I did so. This was all I needed. Already, I was fighting my hardest to keep myself professional at work, but the close contact was making it so difficult that it was almost suffocating just being in the same room as Bernie, never mind working on a patient which held so many memories for us together. We needed to sort this out, I knew. But when, and how? How could I possibly begin to articulate how it was that I was feeling? I couldn’t even work it out for myself, never mind tell it to her. And what would I do if she wasn’t feeling the same way? I didn’t know if I could bear it. The one thing I did know, however, as Fletch arrived to take her obs, was that I needed to alert Bernie to her presence, or else the whole hospital was sure to be awash with gossip in no time. 

After surveying Miss Trent’s symptoms, I concluded she had a bleeding peptic ulcer and quickly rushed off to book her a slot in theatre so as to avoid any more questions from her about Bernie and I. 

“Bernie.”

“Serge?”

“What?” I frowned at her. She grinned, and my mind flashed back to our conversation earlier. “Oh, you have got a cheek, you know that?” 

She laughed. “What’s up?”

I took a breath. “Okay, be subtle,” I murmured, standing closer to her so that she could hear. “Look in Bay Four.” 

She turned her head sharply. 

“Oh for goodness sake!” 

“What?” 

“Could you be any more obv-“

“Berenice!” 

With a sigh, I turned to see her looking over at both of us and waving vigorously, and before I knew it Bernie was striding over to greet her. 

And Fletch. 

I sucked in a breath through my teeth as I followed her, resisting the urge to put my head in my hands. 

“I told Serena I thought it was you! How are you? I must tell you, you haven’t aged a day, either of you,” she gushed, reaching up to warmly shake Bernie’s hand. 

Fletch’s ears pricked up at her words, the playful twinkle lighting up in his eyes as it always did when he sensed some good gossip. My stomach jolted. 

“Fletch, would you mind changing Mr Madison’s dressing in the side room?” I asked quickly, rushing around to his side of the bed. “I’ll take over Miss Trent’s obs.” 

“I’m nearly done, really,” he protested, holding up her chart. “I’ll be two more minutes.” 

“No-“ 

“Oh come on, Serena,” Miss Trent insisted. “Sit and talk to me for a moment. I’d love to know how you’re both doing. How long’s it been?”

_Not long enough_ , I thought, my shoulders slumping as I gave in. I turned back to stand beside Bernie at the end of the bed, glancing up at Fletch to see again his delighted expression, though I could tell he was at least attempting to hide it. 

“Thirty years, just over,” Bernie recalled, looking across at me. Thirty years. That was a lifetime, for some. We were both all too aware of that. 

“Thirty-three,” I corrected, matching her gaze, my jaw tight and neck straight. A look of sadness flashed through her irises, so fleeting that I was barely sure if it was actually there. 

“Blimey!” Miss Trent gasped, looking between us with intrigue. “It feels like yesterday you two were sat in my classroom.” 

“Wait, you were at school together?” Fletch interrupted, a look of shock on his face. 

I grimaced, my eyes rolling towards the ceiling and begging for this to be a dream. 

“Many moons ago,” Bernie answered, her hands slipping into her pockets and her teeth tugging on her bottom lip. She was as uncomfortable as I, I could tell, but did a significantly better job of hiding it. 

“They were trouble, the both of them,” she leaned her head towards Fletch conspiringly. “Always bickering and winding one another up.”

“Really?” Fletch was grinning now, evidently dropping any attempt at subtlety. This was going to be all over the hospital in no time, and there was no point in his denying it. 

“Oh, yes,” she continued. I looked over at Bernie warily, and saw my own screaming expression reflected in her features. We were out. 

I didn’t know how it could get any worse. 

“I knew why though.” She looked back at us with a suggestive glint dancing in her eyes. “And I must say, I’m really pleased you stayed together, all these years.” 

I felt like hitting my head on the nearest wall. 

“Excuse me?” I feigned ignorance, glancing across at Bernie in alarm. She looked equally panicked by this revelation, and raised her eyebrows in a way that let me know she was just as clueless of how to stop it. 

“Don’t play that game with me, Miss McKinnie,” she grinned, shifting slightly. “I could see… even then… just how much you loved one another… really… I saw you…” 

“BP’s dropping,” Fletch announced, his eyes still alive with the knowledge of our secret. 

“Miss Trent, lie back for me.”

I carefully leant her back by the shoulders whilst Bernie felt her abdomen with her delicate fingertips, before listening with her stethoscope. 

“Ulcer’s perforated. She’s bleeding out.”

As if on cue, she jerked forwards, dark blood spraying from her lips. 

“We need to get her into theatre. Now.”

::

“What are we going to do?” I hissed as Bernie appeared next to me at the nurses’ station. 

“Sorry?” She blinked, looking up from her patient’s file.

“We’re going to be all over the hospital!”

“Oh.” She cleared her throat, shaking her head. “I don’t think there’s much we can do.”

“Perfect!” I huffed, typing away furiously at my patient notes. Stress tugged at my chest. How could I cope with all the gossip? It was something that I always found suffocating and would have done anything to avoid. 

“I’ve looked through her patient file,” Fletch interrupted, completely oblivious to the turmoil he had triggered. “No next of kin; I couldn’t trace anyone that knows her at all. Seems she’s all on her own.” 

My gaze turned to the side room in which our former teacher was resting after her op. Something about the knowledge that she, who we had always seen as surrounded by people, was now completely alone in the world, struck a chord with both of us. How could someone possibly go from all that to nothing? 

I turned my head to see Bernie’s eyes boring into mine; she was thinking the same thing as me, and simultaneously we stood, before striding over to the side room. 

“Miss Trent, how’re you feeling?” 

“Please,” she croaked, smiling weakly. “Call me Caroline.” 

“Caroline,” Bernie repeated with a nod. 

She let out a slow breath. “I’m fine. Just a little spaced out.”

“That’ll be the anaesthesia wearing off,” I told her, walking around to the other side of her bed to check her vitals. “You should feel better in a couple of hours.”

“Thanks.” She let her eyelids rest shut, and Bernie and I glanced at one another. 

“Miss… Caroline,” Bernie corrected herself. “Is there anyone we can call for you? Anyone at all?” 

She kept her eyelids closed, shaking her head slowly. “No one.” 

“A friend? Partner? Neighbour?” I offered, returning to stand beside Bernie. “Surely there’s someone.”

“I…” She took a deep breath in, clenching her teeth. “I prefer keeping to myself.” 

“Really?” Bernie replied, moving to sit in the chair at the side of her whilst I perched on the end of the bed. “Because not too long ago, we couldn’t get you to shut up talking to us.” I hummed in agreement. 

“Well.” Her eyes opened slightly to reveal a playful twinkle in her eyes. “That’s because I haven’t seen you in a while. And I couldn’t resist telling you about that night I saw you both - I could never forget it.” She spluttered a small laugh. 

“What night?” I frowned at her, looking across to an equally confused Bernie. 

“It was one night in the summer after you’d left school,” she told us, the corners of her lips twisting upwards as she did so. “You were in the street outside my house making a right racket, dancing about. Must have been three in the morning.”

Bernie chuckled, a broad grin spreading across her features. “I think I remember.”

“I don’t.”

“You wouldn’t,” she teased, and Miss Trent let out a little giggle. 

“Yes, I think it’s safe to say you were more than a little drunk, Serena.” 

I shook my head, racking my brains for any trace of this event. I turned to Bernie, who was gazing at me in amusement. 

“It was the night we went to see _Flashdance_ ,” she offered, raising her eyebrows. “We stayed at a club near the cinema for a couple of hours, and then you said you knew a short cut back to the hotel which ended up being in the opposite direction entirely.” 

“That was it!” Miss Trent seemed to gather more energy from teasing me. “You were running about singing the song from that!”

“With the dance moves,” Bernie added, her eyes glistening with the recollection. 

I shook my head at her, a smile creeping onto my lips. “I really don’t remember.”

They both laughed. 

“You always were rather a… reckless dancer when you were drunk.”

“Speak for yourself!” I defended, turning to Miss Trent. “The stories I could tell you about her!” 

“Like what?” Bernie bluffed, cocking her head to one side and arching an eyebrow. 

"Like... that time you got kicked out of Starlight for being too drunk, then fell over your own feet on your way out and cracked your head open!" 

She shook her head. "That was a misunderstanding," she murmured, smirking. "I was tripped." 

I laughed. "Yeah right! Anyway," I cleared my throat, turning back to the elderly teacher. "How did you suss us out from that? You don't have to be a couple to dance around in the street drunk with someone." 

Miss Trent smiled warmly, looking between us. "Well, after you'd finished your... performance," Bernie snorted, "You kissed in the street." 

I felt a blush creeping into my cheeks, casting a small glance to the chair next to me and seeing Bernie too looking down at her hands shyly. Somehow, having the fact that we had kissed acknowledged out loud seemed far more overwhelming that merely talking of our relationship; it was more intimate, deeper, evoked more concrete memories. Both of us, now, were reliving that moment, remembering the feeling of our lips moulding together and the dizziness of young love. I watched as she tucked her hair behind her ears, smacking her lips together and drumming her fingers on her knee as we both struggled for words, and I could tell, undoubtedly, that she missed it, almost as much as I. But she had thrown it all away. How could she? I wanted her so badly, but I found it so difficult to push past that fact. 

"And then Bernie was singing," Miss Trent continued happily, oblivious. "That Van Morrison song, the one with the brown... _Brown Eyed Girl_ , that's it!" 

I remembered that song; it was on the tape. She used to sing it to me all the time, particularly when she was very _very_ drunk. 

She nodded at the memory. "Yes," she began, before turning her head, her eyes suddenly meeting directly with mine in a way that made my heart falter. "That's always been your song, in my head." She smiled softly, her eyes fond and warm and full of nostalgia and such pure affection that I felt a lump begin to form in my throat. I looked away quickly, clearing my throat and standing myself up straighter. 

“Well…” I stammered, lacing my fingers together and trying to think of something to say in response to that. What could I say? I still loved her? But anger and bitterness still grumbled in my stomach, almost sickeningly so.

“Aww, that’s really sweet,” Miss Trent gushed on, her head turning between the two of us like she was watching a pingpong match. “What about you Serena, do you have one for Berenice?”

I laughed inwardly. “ _Girlfriend in a Coma_?” I replied dryly, staring at her. She raised her eyebrows at me, her mouth opening slightly. 

“You don’t mean that.”

“Don’t I?” I held her gaze. Her eyes widened in hurt. I had intended it as a joke, but what I saw in her eyes was genuine guilt. She knew just how much she had hurt me, and wouldn’t blame me for any contempt I had towards her, but surely our relationship had come further than that, these past few months? Had it? The truth was, we hadn’t let it. Sure, we got on well and in some respects I might say she was my best friend. However, still there was this underlying tension that we both were too cowardly to address. And it was destroying us. We could be so much _better_. 

“Ooh dear,” Miss Trent chimed in. “Have I interrupted a little domestic?” 

I cleared my throat, glancing away from Bernie back to our former teacher. “No,” I said quietly, deciding to be truthful. “No. John Denver. _Annie’s Song_. That was… has always been my song for you.” 

“Oh, I love that one!”

“How does that go?” Bernie frowned at me, her eyes narrowing. I took a breath. 

“You fill up my senses…” I began, avoiding her gaze, but Miss Trent’s enthusiasm took over:

_“Come let me love you, let me give my life to you,_

_let me drown in your laughter, let me die in your arms,_

_let me lay down beside you, let me always be with you._

_Come let me love you, come love me again.”_

I swallowed thickly, looking up to see her staring at me, her eyes glittering with sadness. My heart strained. I loved her _so much_. This mess we were in was killing both of us, I knew. How could we be so stupid as to let it get this far? I needed to push past this bitterness that was eating me alive, needed to allow myself to feel what I was feeling: love. I loved her, and I wanted her back. 

My eyes flitted down to her hands, folded in her lap just an arm’s reach away. I had a chance, here, to make that first connection, to begin to forgive and forget. All it would take would be for me to lean over, place my hand over hers, interlink our fingers. Could I?

I reached out. 

_BLEEP. BLEEP. BLEEP._

Both of us jumped as her pager buzzed in her pocket. 

“Sorry,” she stuttered, swiftly lifting it up to read. “Trauma call. I’ve got to go.” She looked at me apologetically. “Are you alright here?” 

“Yes, of course,” I replied quickly, taking a sharp breath to steady myself. 

“I’ll maybe see you later?”

“Yeah. Sure.”

She smiled at me, a thousand unspoken words dancing behind her eyes, desperate to spill out. But now was not the time, and after a short farewell to Miss Trent and a promise to come see her again later if she was still on the ward, she was gone. 

“I may as well take your obs, whilst I’m here,” I announced suddenly, attempting to change the subject. “Then we’ll see if you’re ready to go up to a ward.” 

She nodded as I stood, moving round to end of the bed for her chart before striding back around to take her blood pressure. “You know, I really am pleased you two stayed together all this time. Not many couples get to say they were together from secondary school, do they?” 

“Just relax for me,” I instructed as the monitor flashed on. I held my breath. “We’re not together.”

“What?” She frowned at me, her mouth gaping open. 

I exhaled. “We’re not together,” I repeated, keeping my eyes on the monitor, watching the numbers rise and fall as it took the reading.

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that,” she said softly, her hand moving to gently rest on my arm and give it a comforting squeeze. “What happened? If you don’t mind my asking.”

I barked out a short laugh, more in attempt to quell the emotion that was suddenly rising in my throat at, for the first time in thirty years, talking out loud about what had gone on between us. After she left, I had never spoken of it again. It never seemed relevant, and the times that it did I just couldn’t bear to talk of it aloud. It hurt too much, and I felt ridiculous for allowing her to have that effect on me, after decades of being apart. 

“She…” I began, unsure really of what to say. “She went to university, and so did I… and we never spoke again. Not a phone call or letter, she didn’t even come back for Christmas.” I busied myself with recording her BP and sats, grinding my teeth against tears. How could she affect me like this? 

“Why not?”

I shook my head. “It wasn’t for want of trying,” I sighed, replacing her chart at the end of the bed. “She just never got in touch, and I couldn’t find any way to get into contact with her at all.” 

“Has she explained why?” 

I sat back down, shaking my head. “We haven’t spoken of it. Any of it.” 

She looked at me sympathetically, and we both sat silently for a few moments, contemplating my words. There it was. Out in the open. So why didn’t I feel any better?

“Go and talk to her,” Miss Trent murmured eventually, her hand again reaching to rest on my arm. “You need to hear what she has to say for herself.” 

I heaved a breath. “I know,” I said slowly, running a hand over my face. “I know. I just don’t know if I want to hear it. It makes me so _angry_.”

She nodded in understanding, pursing her lips as if she were holding her tongue about something before taking a deep breath. “Do you remember Mr Bailey, the English teacher?” 

I paused, my forehead creasing. “Yes, why?” I asked, watching as her smile faltered, though she tried her best to keep it going. 

“It must have been eighteen years that him and I danced around one another,” she told, her voice straining. “Both of our friends kept telling us to just ask one another out, but neither of us had the bottle. Until one day, I bumped into him at singles night at the Cross Keys and found out that he had been feeling the same way, all that time. Eighteen years that we could have had together, wasted. All because we were both scared of losing one another if we didn’t feel the same way.” She hesitated, swallowing. “Fourteen months after we’d been together, he fell in town and had a fit. Turned out her had a grade four brain tumour. He went into hospital on Wednesday, died on the Monday.” She sniffed, reaching up to wipe her eyes with a shaky finger. 

“I’m sorry,” I said gently, putting my hand over hers on my arm. 

“And ever since,” she continued, taking a shaky breath. “I’ve spent every single day sat thinking about all that time wasted, thinking of all that we could have had together: marriage, kids, a house. I know that’s not the sort of thing you’ll be thinking of now, but what I’m trying to say is… life’s too short.”

My stomach panged, and as I looked up into her tear-filled eyes and saw all the hurt that was held there, I knew she was right. I was wasting time, and for no good reason. I didn’t want to lose her again, and that was holding me back, but deep down I knew that I was only delaying the inevitable. One day, we would have to talk about it, and cowardice was the only thing delaying it. 

After our little talk, I managed to find Miss Trent a bed on a ward, along with a referral for grief counselling and the details of some local social events for people her age and befriending schemes. My stomach never stopped turning all afternoon, and when she finally stepped into our office at the end of the shift I felt as though I might be sick. 

“Serena-“

“Bernie-“

We both stopped, waiting for the other to pick up the conversation. I couldn’t breathe. Suddenly the words had left me, and I would have been happy to ignore it for the rest of my life. I chastised myself mentally for being so spineless.

She closed the door gently behind her, moving to sit on one of the two chairs next to the door. 

“Serena,” she continued, looking at the floor. “I think… This has gone on long enough.”

I sighed heavily. There it was. 

“Yes, it has,” I agreed, grasping my hands together. “We need to talk. Not here, though.” She shook her head. I hesitated. “How about we go to dinner, Saturday night?” 

Her eyes met mine, warm and hopeful. “Yes, of course,” she nodded eagerly, though I could tell she was trying to hold herself back. 

“Good,” I replied, smiling, warmth spreading in my stomach, the early tingle of nerves and excitement as my mind instantly jumped to the word ‘date’. It wasn’t, I attempted to calm myself, but still we found ourselves grinning stupidly at one another across the short distance between her chair and my desk. I wanted to kiss her. But not now. Two days. Maybe.

“Well, goodnight,” she beamed eventually, standing up. She didn’t make to leave though, as if waiting for me. _Not tonight._

“Yes, goodnight,” I smiled. “We can talk tomorrow about times and stuff like that.” 

“Yeah, sure.” She nodded, still waiting. I turned my head back to the computer, signalling to her that the conversation was over. I didn’t know how much longer I would be able to keep my resolve, with her standing so close like this. 

“‘Night,” she repeated finally, before turning and exiting the office. I let out a deep held breath. 

Two days. 

I had waited thirty-three years, but all of a sudden a mere forty-eight hours felt like a lifetime. 

Two days.


	11. You're The First, The Last, My Everything

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for taking so long with this! I planned to put this and the next chapter all together, but it's gotten so long that I've split it. This one is pretty much fluff with a bit of sick!fic and hints of angst to come
> 
> Enjoy!

SIDE B

_Track 6: You're The First, The Last, My Everything - Barry White_

_Missing Track: Kung Fu Fighting - Carl Douglas_

* * *

 

The summer of 1983 was one of the hottest on record, and we were together almost every day. In the months following, when I would sit for hours and hours by the phone, nails bitten down to the flesh, waiting for her call and wondering where on earth I went wrong, it crossed my mind that perhaps this was the reason she had stayed away. Maybe we had exhausted ourselves, overexposed ourselves to one another until she couldn't stand another second in my company. 

Many days and nights we spent outdoors, just laying on the grass in the park, either chatting away or simply laid there in companionable silence, our joined hands disguised from the world by our discarded jackets. We still stayed in the hotel on a Saturday night though, as was tradition, and sometimes even on a couple of weekdays when we had the money. It was suffocatingly warm though, with no air conditioning and the old, splintered wooden windows only opening a crack. One night in particular, the hottest day of the year, we spent half the night pouring cold water on one another in desperate efforts to cool down, until giving up and deciding instead to walk to the park and watch the sunrise. I remember thinking how wonderful it was, being able to walk through the empty streets hand-in-hand, without the fear of anyone catching us out. Maybe that was part of the reason she cut me off. The army was her life - why would she want to risk losing that for me? 

Exam results came, marking the beginning of the end for us. I remember the cold, anxious feeling that began in my gut when we arrived to pick up our envelopes, expecting it to dissipate when we opened them and discovered our fate, but no - the feeling remained, a constant reminder that I was soon to be broken-hearted. I remember embracing her as we both grinned in relief that we had got our grades, but my smile had faltered the moment her chin rested on my shoulder as the crushing realisation came that this was happening, that we didn’t have all the time in the world, that nothing could last forever. 

The weeks flew by, and soon the days we had left to share together could be counted on two hands. We went out, as usual, and we had a good time, but we both knew that time was running out. We never really spoke about it for the whole summer, but with the end approaching, it was a conversation that needed to be had, though it took Bernie getting more drunk than I’ve ever seen her for it to happen. 

"Chug! Chug! Chug! Chug!"

I watched in amusement as the boisterous jeering went on, Bernie and Alan both oblivious to it as they concentrated on getting down the cans of Black Label they had been challenged to drink the fastest. It was just six days until most of them, including Bernie, were to go their separate ways for university - my own course starting a week later - and as a parting celebration we had decided to go camping for a night. We were all sat around a campfire in a field on the farm owned by Simon's parents, our tents set a few metres behind, and the usual drinking games had taken up a large majority of the time so far. Bernie won each game without fail, upturning her empty can in victory as the rest of them cheered, and I couldn't help a proud chuckle at the fact she managed to drink lads twice her build under the table. She really was in her element amongst them, and it was endearing to see the mutual respect between them all. It gave me hope, seeing their blind acceptance of us and of Jonty and Adam, who were leant drunkenly against one another at the other side of the fire. They allowed us to feel normal, valued and respected, and that was the best feeling in the world. 

"Oh, yes! Remember this, Bern?" Simon teased, turning up the volume on the boombox balanced on the log beside him. 

_Oh-hoh-hoh-hoah_

_Oh-hoh-hoh-hoah_

She groaned loudly, hiding her face in her hands. "Oh, no," she winced, resting her head against my shoulder as she cringed. I eyed her curiously as good-natured laughter filled the air. 

_Everybody was Kung Fu Fighting_

_Those kids were fast as lightning_

"Someone got a bit worse for wear at the house party I had when my parents were away when we were… fifteen, I think?” Dukes told, a nostalgic grin on his face. “Scarred everyone for life!”

"It wasn't that bad!" She attempted to defend herself, but her tone told me instantly that their tormenting was deserved. 

"She looked like Mr Tickle on acid, waving her arms about like that."

"I didn’t—" 

"She nearly broke my nose. Everyone was running for their life trying to get away from her flapping about!" 

I clasped my hand over my mouth in laughter, nudging her with my shoulder as she murmured embarrassedly, "I was trying to breakdance." 

Her words were met with further jeers. 

"You were trying to break something, alright!" 

I raised an eyebrow at her playfully. "I think this deserves a demonstration," I smirked, watching in amusement as her face dropped. 

"No!" 

Laughter and cheering erupted around us. 

"Simon, I am going to kill you!" 

I slung my arm around her shoulders, squeezing her to me fondly. 

"You are rather adorable when you're embarrassed," I murmured in her ear, prompting a bashful smile from her as her cheeks burned. She never was one to show weakness though, or rather what she perceived as weakness, so quickly turned on Simon. 

"Right, come on." She stood up, walking pointedly over to where the alcohol supply was. "One can, two tequilas. Loser has double." 

His mouth opened incredulously as the rest started jeering and whistling. 

“I can’t drink that; I’ll die!”

“Well I did say I was going to kill you.”

“Oh, come on now, Simon. Rise to the challenge,” I backed her up, grinning. He shot me a cunning look. 

“Okay, if you think it’s that easy, why don’t you join us?” 

My eyes widened, and I looked over to Bernie for help, only to see her raise an eyebrow daringly. I sighed. “Go on then." 

Her eyes lit up as I stood, and she quickly got pouring the shots and handed us each a can ready for Jonty to shout 'go'. She finished a good fifteen seconds before Simon and I, but I managed to finish just before him, to my relief. Not to his, though; he got half way through his forfeit can of Black Label before rushing off behind the tents to vomit. In fact, quite a few of them ended up in a similar position, with all the drinking games and too much BBQ food. Bernie, however, was still going strong, as always. 

It was around midnight, and most of us were simply lounging around the campfire now - with the exception of Alan and Chris who were making quite a show of trying to light one another’s farts. Bernie and I were leant against one another, both watching them amusedly. 

“Would you believe he’s predicted three A’s?” Bernie slurred, her lips close to my ear as she rested her cheek on my shoulder. I chuckled. 

“Just because he can pass exams, doesn’t mean he’s got half a brain,” I pondered, raising an eyebrow as one of them exclaimed victoriously, ‘That one almost did it!’

I felt her shaking her head despairingly. “I’ve known most of these boys since we were five,” she began lightly, her voice laced with nostalgia. “And they haven’t aged a day. Mentally, I mean. I think if Alan had been six-foot-four in reception class you’d have heard about it.” She giggled at herself, and I smiled fondly. “Still,” she continued, her nose poking into my shoulder as she took in a deep breath of my perfume. “I’m going to miss them. Though if you tell them that,” she lifted her lips up to my ear, her breath tickling and making me shiver, “There might just be consequences.” 

I clapped a hand on her thigh, squeezing it comfortingly. “I’m sure you will,” I replied, trying to keep my breathing steady, though my heart sank slightly with the stark reminder that we were soon to be separated. “It’ll be a big change. For all of us.” 

She sighed heavily, her lips grazing lazily along my neck as she struggled to hold her head upright. “We’ll be okay though,” she murmured, her eyelids falling shut as her head flopped. “We’ll all be okay. All’s well that ends well, or something like that.” She laughed. 

I hummed quietly in agreement, tilting my head to rest atop hers as I watched Adam fiddling about with the dial on the boombox in an attempt to find a better radio station. I wanted to ask if she would miss me too, but really I knew the answer. Or, rather, I thought I did. If she had missed me that much, surely she would have felt compelled to get in touch? 

I felt her tense up beside me, carefully lifting her head so that her lips touched my ear. 

“Serena, I’m gonna be sick,” she mumbled, her voice thick and rushed. 

“Ah, the great Berenice Wolfe! Fallen at last,” I joked, but when I looked up her face was deadly serious, slightly green and her eyes panicked and urging, _not here_. I always found it funny, the things she considered as shameful. She would waltz around changing rooms fully nude with a group of teenage boys covered in love bites and simply shrug it off, but would gladly be beamed off the face of the earth before anyone saw her being sick after drinking. 

“Right,” I announced, wincing slightly as I hauled myself up after sitting down for so long, the alcohol making my head spin. “We’re going for a walk.” I held out my hand to help her up as Simon wolf-whistled. “Do you think of nothing else?” I rolled my eyes at him. 

“He’s just jealous,” Bernie jumped in, slinging an arm around my shoulders as I put mine round her waist, helping her stay upright as discreetly as possible. “The only vagina he’s ever seen is his mum’s when he came out of it.” 

“And yours,” he shot back, grinning. 

She barked a laugh as we began walking. “And mine,” she repeated. “Touché.” 

I directed us to a gap in the hedge beside the tents leading to the next field, holding onto her more tightly as her legs wobbled. Part of me felt smug, really, since she was so often boastful about her ‘heavyweight’ status, but I resisted the urge to tease her just yet. I gently pulled off the hair tie that she wore round her wrist, just in time for her lunge in the direction of the nearest hedge. As she heaved and retched I carefully scraped her hair up out of her face, tying it as best I could at the nape of her neck before resting my palm between her shoulder blades comfortingly, my other hand strong on her forearm in case her legs gave way again. 

“Can we just… sit down for a bit,” she mumbled eventually, wiping her mouth with the tissue I had passed her and tossing it into the hedge before stumbling across towards the centre of the field, still leaning on me for support. Letting go of me, she flopped down onto the grass with a groan, turning onto her back to face the night sky and gesturing for me to join her. I did, shuffling up to rest beneath her arm as she wrapped it around me. 

We lay in contemplative silence for a while, both enjoying the feeling of resting against one another and of being completely alone underneath the stars, though we could still hear the faint murmur of the radio coming from the campsite. We had one week left in the same city, before we were to be wrenched apart. Tears stung in my eyes at the thought of it. Though I knew she, like myself, would be home at Christmas, still I couldn’t shake the feeling of something ending. I felt grief, truly. How could I cope without seeing her beautiful face every Saturday night? Her smile? Her laugh? My heart ached. 

“Listen,” she said suddenly, nodding over to the campsite. I frowned, turning, as she began to hum the music that spilled between the trees. 

_My first, my last, my everything_

_And the answer to all my dreams_

“ _You're my sun, my moon, my guiding star_ ,” she murmured along, her lips against my ear and her words still slightly slurred. “ _My kind of wonderful, that's what you are_.”

I grinned, resolving to do my best Barry White impression and deepening my voice melodramatically. 

_I know there's only, only one like you_

_There's no way they could have made two_

_You're all I'm living for, your love I'll keep forevermore_

_You’re the first, you're the last, my everything_

She joined in the dramatics, and soon we were lost to giggles, clutching onto one another and rolling about in the grass, moving and writhing to the tune. 

_Girl, you're my reality, but I'm lost in a dream_

_You're the first, you're the last, my everything_

“You know, I really really _really_ love you,” she gushed as the song ended, wrapping both arms around me tightly.

“Don’t sound so surprised,” I replied dryly, raising an eyebrow with a grin. 

“No, I’m not… I just… this feels…” She stammered, grinning happily. “I don’t know,” she laughed. “You’re amazing and fantastic and beautiful and kind and I don’t know what I did to deserve you.”

I chuckled. “You are such a soppy drunk, you know that,” I teased, kissing her nose.

“Am not,” she mumbled, resting her forehead against mine. “Really. I love you. More than anything.”

“I know.” I nodded gently. “I love you too.”

We were silent for a few moments then, both reflecting on our words, our eyes on the stars.

“We will keep in touch, won’t we?” She asked quietly, her voice small and tentative, almost _scared_.

I pulled back to look her in the eye, my heart jumping. “Of course we will,” I promised determinedly. “I don’t think I could bear it if we didn’t.” 

“Good,” she nodded simply, her eyes falling away from mine. I pulled her back to me, tucking her head beneath my chin and inhaling the soft, familiar scent of her curls. 

I heard her take a shaky breath. “I’m going to miss you,” she murmured, her voice thick. “I know I don’t tell you enough.” A lump formed in my throat.

“I’m going to miss you too,” I whispered into her hair. “But we’ll get through it.”

I felt her nod against me, her lips brushing my throat. She placed a gentle, chaste kiss there, and I felt her inhaling deeply, sending a shiver down my spine. Her hands smoothed across my back, reaching for the hem of my blouse as her kisses traveled along my jawline to the sensitive spot behind my ear. 

“Don’t take offence,” I started breathily, my own hands reaching down to her arse and grinding our hips together. “But please do not kiss me.” I felt her chuckle as she took an earlobe between her teeth.

“I’m sure I can think of somewhere better to put my lips,” she whispered. I chuckled. 

“In a field?” I asked jokingly, but already I felt my body responding, nerves tingling, heat shooting straight to where her fingers were now tracing circles over the front of my trousers. 

“I just can’t resist you,” she breathed into my ear, her voice shaky with arousal and giddiness. I pressed a kiss to her shoulder, the base of her neck, my own hands mirroring her actions as I palmed her over the rough fabric. Her breath hitched as I pressed my middle finger harder against her centre, a satisfied grin spreading across my lips as I felt her rut against me and knew that she was just as wet as I. 

"Bernie! Serena! Christ, you lezzas don’t half take your time. You're wanted back here!" 

We both froze as we heard Simon calling across the field. She cleared her throat. "We'll be there now!" She called. He replied something incoherent, disappearing back out of earshot. She shook her head. "I don't know what went wrong with that boy," she mused. 

I laughed, pressing a kiss to her temple before sitting up. "Or rather what went right with the rest of them, you mean," I corrected, standing and brushing myself down before holding out a hand to help her up. 

When we arrived back at the camp everyone was already sat around the fire, even the ones that had ended up retiring early. We sat down heavily in our spot, Bernie with an arm slung around my shoulder, and craning our necks to see what Alan and Chris were fiddling with. 

“Oh God, you haven’t seriously?”

Chris looked up with a grin. She shook her head, though the corners of her mouth twitched. 

“I don’t approve of this.”

“Oh be quiet, Mum.”

“Don’t approve of what?" I asked with a frown, my question immediately answered as Alan held up what was clearly a home made tattoo needle. My eyebrows shot up. "You're not seriously going to do your own tattoos?" 

"Come on captain, you're up first!" 

I looked at her incredulously but all she could do was shrug and sigh, resigned to her fate. She stood up slowly, her head no doubt still light from the excessive alcohol, and strode over to where Alan and Chris were sat.

“Where’s it going?” She asked as she sat down, running a hand through her hair. “I can’t have it visible.”

“Ribs?” 

She nodded apprehensively, lifting her shirt and the strap of her bra. “Do it under there. And can I just say,” she added, a warning tone to her voice. “If anything even slightly resembling a phallus ends up permanently inked into my skin, I’m going to take that needle and shove it right—“

“Alright, keep your hair on!” 

She shook her head warily, casting me a slightly worried glance before telling him to get on with it. Carefully, he tattooed a small, slightly wonky replica of the team’s emblem into her skin, before continuing to the rest of the team. 

“Serena?” He asked, after the rest of the lads were finished and admiring their new additions. 

I froze. “No,” I stammered, my hand tightening on my drink. “No, you’re okay. I’m not even part of the team. I’ve only known you a few mon—“

“You might not play rugby, but you’re definitely part of the team,” Luke butted in, his words muffled by a mouthful of crisps. The air filled with calls of agreement.

“Here, let me do it,” Bernie offered, beckoning to Alan to pass her the needle. I raised my eyebrows. 

“I think I might trust Alan more with permanently injecting ink into my skin,” I said cautiously, eyeing the needle with slight apprehension. “At least he’s had twenty practices.” 

She laughed. “I can’t fault your thinking there.”

I pursed my lips, considering her words, but the alcohol had admittedly lessened my inhibitions so I eventually nodded. “If you bugger this up…” I warned. 

“Of course not,” she beamed. “I’ll take my time.” 

I lifted my blouse, waiting nervously as Alan explained to her the technique.

“Ready?” She asked eventually, and I tried not to shiver as she smoothed her cool fingertips across the bare skin she was about to ink. 

I nodded, swallowing nervously. “Ready,” I replied, sounding infinitely more confident than I felt. The needle felt hot and stung as it pierced my skin, and I drew in a sharp breath. 

“Alright?” She asked, her free hand on my shoulder, thumb swiping back and forth soothingly. 

“All good,” I grimaced, my jaw tight. She continued, and I closed my eyes against the uncomfortable scratching, listening as Alan talked her through it. 

Eventually, she leant back to admire her handiwork. 

“Hm.” She grinned at me, her eyes sparkling. “A masterpiece, if I do say so myself.” 

I lifted my arm to get a look at where she had tattooed me. Right enough, the emblem was as neat as I could have hoped for, and next to it, in as small print as was possible to still be clear, was the initial ‘B’. 

“I should have known you’d have to get your name somewhere,” I shook my head, but really inside I couldn’t have been happier to have a piece of her engraved into me forever, seeing as in my teenage naivety I assumed that _we_ would be forever. 

“Am I really that vain?” She joked, dabbing at where some ink had leaked with a tissue. 

“Yes!” I barked out, grinning as I snatched the needle from her. “Eye for an eye.” I raised an eyebrow expectantly. Her eyes widened in mock fear. 

“Do you remember what our chemistry teacher said when you told him you were going to do medicine?” 

I shook my head.

“Doctor’s handwriting!” She raised her hands to emphasise her point. I swatted them down. 

“I think I can manage a semi-coherent ’S’, don’t you?” I nodded for her to turn around. She paused, before obliging, lifting her shirt. 

“Alan, make sure she does it right, please.”

“Oh, shush!” I chided, shoving her shoulder. She slapped my hand playfully, her hair falling across her face, before allowing me to continue. 

“There,” I announced proudly. “All done. See, that wasn’t so bad!” 

She turned around and grinned at me. “Oh, the agony!” 

I shook my head warningly and she laughed, kissing me on the cheek. 

“Thank you,” she said sincerely, cupping my cheek. “For permanently stabbing your name into my skin.” She winked. 

The rest the night was spent lazily, leaning around by the fire and listening to the music before eventually retiring to our tents, falling asleep almost instantly after spending a few moments admiring our new tattoos in the torchlight. And they stung like hell when we woke up.

Looking back now, it fills me with absolute horror that we had done such a thing. Not the tattoo itself, of course; I could never regret that, no matter how much she had hurt me, as it commemorated such an important chapter in my life, and though I tried I had not once in my life wanted to forget her. But sharing a needle with such a vast array of people, with the current epidemic, and in a field full of mud and no doubt countless germs and bacteria… My gut clenched. 

See, of all the things that ground on my nerves about Berenice Wolfe, about what she had done, how she had left, it wasn’t what she had done to _me_ that filled me with white hot rage. No. It was Jonty. 

He and Adam stayed together for years, after we departed, but in 1985 went through a rough patch, separating briefly, and it was in this time that Adam had a one night stand on a night out in Leeds. They never spoke about it; they were separated at the time, after all. 

In February 1991, Adam was diagnosed with HIV, and Jonty soon after. By the end of the month, Jonty developed AIDS, and by mid-March he was dead. Adam is still alive today. 

And she wasn’t even at his funeral. 

I knew she was in the city; my mum said that she had seen her in Blockbuster returning a video. She was his best friend, all those years, and she didn’t have the human decency to attend his funeral. 

That’s what really gets me about Berenice Griselda Wolfe: her ability to completely detach, to leave people behind without a second thought, cut herself off from everyone who thought they meant something to her. 

How could I ever trust her to stay?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so so sorry


	12. Red Red Wine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so, so much for all the wonderful feedback on the last chapter, it's definitely helped me to get this one out more quickly!
> 
> I changed the rating because I never know quite where the line lies between M and E on here and I used a naughty word.
> 
> Enjoy!

SIDE B

_ Track 7: Red Red Wine - UB40 _

** END OF TAPE **

_ Missing Track: One Step Beyond - Madness _

* * *

 My legs felt so unsteady, walking to the bus stop that final night, that I almost stumbled on more than one occasion, my head light and my stomach wracked with nerves. I tried my best to shake it off, squeezing my eyes shut and forcing a smile onto my features as I neared her, but still I couldn’t quite lift the sorrow in my heart. 

“There you are!” Bernie exclaimed, turning around and stomping out a cigarette as I neared. She was anxious too. “I was beginning to think something had happened to you!”

I let out a nervous chuckle, leaning forward to give her a chaste peck on the cheek, as friends normally would. It was the largest display of affection we could show in public.

“No,” I shook my head, my arms limp at my sides as I tried to think of something to say. My mind was blank. “Just…”

She rested her hand on my forearm briefly, giving it a light squeeze. “I know,” she murmured, taking a breath. “Me too.”

Silence ensued for a couple of seconds, before she seemed to pick herself up, standing straighter. “Look, I got you something,” she announced, fishing about in her handbag. Before I had chance to say anything, she pulled out a grey C60 cassette tape. “Well, I _made_ you something,” she corrected, holding it out to me. I took it from her, turning it over to read what she had scrawled on the back. 

_'Our Songs'_

_To keep you going ’til we're together again!_

_With love,_

_Bernie xxxx_

_16.9.83_

My mouth fell open slightly. “Thank— Thank you!” I stammered, blinking. “I’m sorry, I didn’t get you anything; I didn’t realise we were doing gifts—“ 

“No, no,” she hushed, grabbing my free hand. “Don’t worry about that. I just found a blank tape in my room and thought it might be nice to… I don’t know, see what memories I could fit on it?” She smiled knowingly. 

“Why, what’s on it?” I asked, flipping it over for a track list. She shook her head.

“No,” she grinned, her eyes twinkling. “No track list. You can listen to it and see what I’ve managed to recollect — see if you can remember them all!”

I raised my eyebrows in challenge. “Well, I’ve got a better memory than you!”

“Rubbish!” She laughed, turning at the bus approached. “You’d forget your head if it wasn’t screwed on well enough!” 

“Speak for yourself!” I shoved her playfully by the shoulder as we boarded, slipping the tape into my handbag as I got my purse out for the fare. 

“Oh, and the last song isn’t one of ours, per se,” she added as we sat down. “It was only released last week I think, but they said the title on the radio and I thought, ‘that is _so_ Serena’.” She winked. I winced. 

“Oh god, what is it?”

She laughed, nudging me with her shoulder. “Nothing _that_ bad. You’ll see! I wonder if they’ll play it tonight,” she wondered aloud.

They did. 

“This is it! This is your song!” She gushed as track began. We were already on the dancefloor at this stage. As this was our last night, both of us had made a conscious effort to stay more sober than usual. We didn’t want to forget a single moment of the night ahead, much less have it cut short should one of us overdo it, so only had a couple of glasses of my very favourite drink before we were off, dancing away. 

_Red, red wine_

_Goes to my head_

_Makes me forget that I_

_Still need her so_

I opened my mouth in mock offence.

“How is this me?” I yelled over the music, an eyebrow raised challengingly. She grinned fondly, so that the corners of her eyes crinkled. 

“How is it not?” She laughed, pressing her thumb to my pouted lips. It was a gesture we had developed in the past few weeks, signalling a time when, had it been safe to do so, we would have kissed. Not that often it was necessary to communicate in that way; I could always see in her eyes when she wanted that, but this allowed us a little more intimacy than simply thinking about it. 

_Red, red wine_

_Stay close to me_

_Don’t let me be alone_

_It’s tearin’ apart_

_My blue, blue heart_

We stayed on the dancefloor for most of the night, jumping and twirling, desperately trying to shake off the dark cloud that hung above us, reminding us that this was the end. I tried to enjoy the moment, and I did, watching her, how beautiful she was when she danced, how much I admired her and loved her, how lucky I was that we had had all this time, but still my heart ached. I contemplated getting another drink, in the hope of allowing myself to relax a little more, but I didn’t want anything at all to take away from the time we had together. And it wasn’t as though I suffered alone; I could tell by the way her lip wobbled from time to time, and how she blinked just that little bit harder, every now and then, that she was feeling it too. 

We kept looking at our watches, too. Both of us wanted to stay until the end, so that we could have our last ‘last dance’, but the urge to finally be alone, to spend our final night in the hotel together, made us both wish that 3am would hurry up, then immediately feeling guilt realising that we were wishing away our final hours together, so eventually gave up on it, leaving the club just before midnight in favour of having our time alone together. 

“There’s a radio in there, we can just have our own last dance!” Bernie suggested enthusiastically as we climbed the stone steps to the hotel, but her cheery tone was interrupted by her voice breaking on the last syllable. I reached out and squeezed her hand, steadying her as we booked in, and as soon as we were on the staircase and out of sight I pressed a soothing kiss to her lips. 

“Alright?” I whispered, brushing my thumb over her knuckles. 

She let out a sigh, biting the inside of her cheeks as her eyes glittered. “Yeah,” she said shortly, and I knew that she was barely holding herself together. 

By the time the bedroom door swung closed behind us, I noticed the first tear roll down her cheek.

“Hey,” I murmured, tossing my bag and jacket down onto the bed and spinning her round to face me as she stood, her eyes downcast and her hair fallen into her face. “Who was it that said no tears?” I lifted her chin with my fingertips, tucking her hair behind her ear and wiping her eyes with the pad of my thumb. She barked out a laugh, avoiding my gaze. 

“I just have something in my eye,” she lied jokingly, and I couldn’t help a fond smile, my arms coming up around her shoulders to pull her into an embrace.

“We’re going to be okay, remember,” I insisted, as much for my own benefit as hers. “We can write and phone each other, and Christmas isn’t too far away.” I pressed my lips to her temple, feeling her arms tighten around my waist as we stood in the silence with heavy hearts. 

She nodded, her cheek brushing against mine as she did so. “I know,” she breathed, steadying herself. “I know. I’m fine. Don’t worry.” She pulled back with a tearful smile.

“Let’s just relax for a few minutes,” I said, grabbing her hand and pulling her onto the bed, flicking on the radio as we went. She discarded her bag and jacket with mine, our hands only disconnecting long enough for her to pull her arm out of the sleeves, before climbing on after me, nestling in the crook of my arm as I leant against the headboard. I closed my eyes, savouring the feeling of her in my arms, of the gentle thud of her heart against my side through our blouses, of the sweet scent of her curls as I buried my nose in them.

“I love you,” I whispered into her hair, squeezing her hand as I did so. Her grip tightened. 

“I love you too.”

Slowly, her breaths became less ragged, the emotion that was choking her becoming less overpowering as we lay there, listening to the radio and enjoying the feeling of our bodies resting against one another. I was beginning to feel almost sleepy, and quickly shook myself, not wanting to lose even a second that I had left with her. 

“We still need to have our dance,” I announced. She jumped slightly at my sudden speech; she had been dozing off too. 

“I don’t think we’ll get anything on this station,” she chuckled as Billy Idol blared from the speakers. I disentangled myself from her, fiddling with the nozzle, but all the radio stations seemed to play much of the same. I looked at my watch.

“It’s nearly twelve. Don’t _Radio 1_ have a wind-down show at this time?” 

She yawned. “Maybe. It’ll be on after the news.” 

I turned the dial to the correct frequency before climbing back next to her. “Okay, first song that comes on - we’ll have our dance. Otherwise we’ll be up all night waiting for the right one.” 

“We’ll be up all night anyway,” she mumbled sleepily, curling around me to place a kiss on the sensitive spot at the back of my neck. I shuddered. 

“That’s not the point.” I raised an eyebrow at her. She smiled.

“Okay. You’re on.” 

We listened as the presenter announced midnight and read the day’s headlines: privatisation of catering services in the NHS, premier league football results, the thirteenth anniversary of Jimi Hendrix’s death. Finally, the closing jingle rang out, and the night presenter began his speech. 

_“Right there folks, you’re listening to the Saturday late night show with Gary Davies, and if you’re not up and dancing yet - why aren’t you?! It’s Saturday night! Here’s a little number that’ll get even the most grumbly of your pals up and ready to hit the town…”_

She raised an eyebrow at me skeptically. “This is such a bad ide—"

_Hey you,_

_Don’t watch that, watch this!_

“I rest my case.” She flopped back down on the bed. I shook my head, grabbing her hand with a grin. 

“No. We’re doing this,” I insisted, groaning slightly as I attempted to pull her up. She covered her face with her free hand. 

“Serena, we can’t slow dance to this. Of all the songs…” 

“Well, you never know until you try,” I pushed, finally managing to pull her up and off of the bed. I could see she was trying to stay disapproving, but her eyes glittered in amusement as I moved her hands to my waist before resting my own on her shoulders, as we usually did for the last dance.

_So if you’ve come off the street_

_And you’re beginning to feel the heat_

“You’re mad,” she shook her head as I started swaying her gently. I laughed.

“This is so romantic,” I joked, stepping forward slightly to rest myself, my hips, flush against her, as it had been too dangerous to do when we had danced in clubs. She smirked, looking down at where our bodies joined. 

_Well, listen buster_

_You’d better start to move your feet_

“Absolutely,” she agreed, as I felt her body relax beneath my fingertips as she got more into it, her hands tight on my waist. “At least it wasn’t _‘Embarrassment’._ ”

“Oh, how fitting that would have been!” 

_Too the rockin’est, rock-steady beat_

_Of Madness_

“I’m gonna get you for that!” She threatened, raising an eyebrow.

“Mmm, is that a promise?” I asked provocatively. She grinned. 

_One step beyond!_

Suddenly I was flying through the air, her strong arms lifting me and spinning me around as the beat picked up. I squealed excitedly, my legs dangling as she spun me before landing me down with a thud and pulling me into a half embrace, one hand interlinked and the other around one another’s waist, dancing around the room like a couple of drunks at a wedding. It reminded me so much of the first time we had gone out together, to the Glenn Miller tribute band, and how we had danced then, jumping about enthusiastically whilst everyone else stepped in a more sophisticated rhythm. If the people downstairs shouted complaints at our thudding about, I didn’t register it; I was too lost in her giggles and the wicked glint in her eye, until eventually with an elated laugh she reached around to cup my arse, using it as leverage to lift me up and throw me back onto the bed before climbing on top, her golden necklace dangling just above my heart.

“I’ve been wanting to do this all night,” she growled as she tore at my blouse, her lips falling to the base of my neck as I writhed beneath her, my fingernails clawing at her back over her top before tugging it from her jeans. 

“Took you long enough,” I breathed, arching into her as I smoothed my palm across her bare back.

“Hmm,” she murmured, her lips travelling across my collar as she opened my blouse roughly, popping a few buttons along the way. “I don’t know how I resisted. How do I ever resist ravishing you, the moment I set eyes on you? You’re so fucking _sexy_ …” She dipped her hands below the waistband of my trousers, giving my arse a rough squeeze. 

I giggled happily, my fingers coming up to knot in her hair. “I don’t think I’d object to that,” I mused. She lifted her head back up, her eyes meeting mine with a playful sparkle. “Kiss me,” I ordered, and she obliged, her mouth hot and wanting on mine as we nipped and sucked at one another’s lips, tongues pushing forcefully and tasting one another as if it were the very first time, hungry and needing and insatiable. 

She let out a surprised squeak as I flipped her onto her back, pinning her arms above her head as I pressed a thigh between hers, causing her to gasp as she ground down involuntarily, heat rising up her throat. 

“I don’t know why… you think you’ve got any chance at holding me down…” She teased, her breaths becoming ragged as I moved my knee against her. “You know I could have you begging for mercy in less than thirty seconds…”

“Could you?” I breathed against her lips, moving one hand to unbutton the front of her jeans. “How about…” She groaned, canting her hips as I dipped a finger into her underwear, feeling how soaked she was for me. I dragged my forefinger up her slit, spreading her wetness so that she was slick all over. “… Now?”

A high-pitched, strangled gasp burst from her lips as my forefinger brushed directly over her clit in just the rhythm I had found to make her lose all control, her back arching and legs trembling and speech incoherent as I applied more and more pressure. 

“Fuck… Serena… I… You… Ohhh…” She whimpered as I leant down to place an open-mouthed kiss to her exposed throat, grazing her delicate skin slightly with my teeth and tasting the perspiration already forming there. Her chest convulsed as her pants continued. “God… S’rena… It… You…” 

I ran my tongue in a long, wet line up her jugular, along her jawline, to the sensitive skin behind her ear. “Not so cocky now, are we?” I whispered.

If she thought about challenging me, that notion was quickly dissolved as I increased the speed of my fingers, teeth nipping at the side of her neck as she bucked her hips wildly, her moans increasingly high in pitch and her words unintelligible. “Sorry, what was that?” I smirked as I saw her brow furrow in concentration, her mouth hanging open and her breaths erratic. “I’m not letting you come until I get an articulate sentence out of you.” 

She whimpered, throwing her head back violently and attempting to steady her breathing, but still I kept up my pace. “Serena… _Fuck!”_ She swallowed hard. “Fucking hell, I… you’re so good at that please… _please_ let me come…” She whined as I sucked at the base of her neck, my other hand still loosely pinning her wrists together above her head. “I’m so close, please… I want to come all over your hand… want to watch you taste me…” My clit pulsed at her words and my breath caught in my throat, my hips rocking involuntarily.

I let out a fast and shaky breath, her words jolting to my core until I was burning, a fresh surge of wetness coating my sex and I couldn’t hold back any longer. She near shrieked as my fingers quickened, applying hard pressure directly to her clit. I noticed her skin flushing under my lips and knew that she was about to come undone. 

“Come for me, darling,” I purred, my lips returning to her ear. “I want to feel you gush as you come in your pants for me. I want to taste you, sweetheart. God, you’re so fucking _beautiful_ …” And with that I heard her sharp intake of breath and felt her whole body tense as she climaxed, her cunt twitching beneath my fingertips and a string of expletives leaving her mouth. 

As her breathing began to slow I released her arms and gently removed my fingers from her underwear, still hovering above her as I ran my tongue along them before slowly pushing them into my mouth, right to the back of my throat as she watched with hooded eyes, a low growl escaping her lips. I made a play of sucking and savouring her taste on my fingers, moaning in satisfaction until she reached a shaking hand to my wrist, pulling so that my mouth was free for her to lean up and place a tender, lingering kiss there. 

I flopped down beside her, her hand slipping from my wrist to interlink our fingers. We lay for a while, gathering ourselves, our chests heaving. 

“I’m going to miss this,” she murmured eventually, her hand squeezing mine. “How has the time gone so fast?” 

“Time flies when you’re having fun,” I recited, and she barked out a laugh. 

“That’s one word for it.” She turned her head, her gaze flickering between my eyes and my lips before leaning in for another kiss. 

“I love you,” she breathed, her hands leaving mine to tangle in my hair as I moulded to her, and soon we were at it again, though this time with much less clothes. 

We didn’t sleep at all that night. We were both too conscious of the time we would be wasting by doing so, and so resolved to keep awake, talking and reminiscing and making love until the sun rose outside our window, and reluctantly we had to board the bus home. Despite there being a couple of other passengers on the top deck, we held hands for the entire journey, albeit discreetly, hidden by our bags, and spent most of the time in silence, contemplating how we were soon to part. 

We had said our proper goodbyes in the hotel room, free to kiss and hold one another for as long as we pleased, to whisper over and over how we loved each other and to reassure one another that we would be okay. Bernie told me how she would call me as soon as her parents left and give me the phone number for her halls, as well as an address for me to send letters to, and we agreed to call one another at least twice a week. It would be strange at first, but we would get through it. 

“So, I suppose this is it,” she announced. We were at the end of our adjoining streets, had been for about five minutes before either of us spoke. All we could do was stand there half-awkwardly, avoiding one another’s gaze, finding it impossible to think of anything we could possibly say to sum up how we were feeling. 

“Yes, I suppose it is,” I replied evenly, my chest tight. She stared at me for a few moments, before seeming to think ‘fuck it’ and pulling me into an embrace. 

“I love you,” she whispered into my ear, her cheek resting against mine. 

“I love you.”

I squeezed my eyes shut tight against tears as we stood in that position for far longer than was to be passed off as normal between friends. She pulled back slightly, bringing her lips to my cheek to place a gentle, lasting kiss there until suddenly she could seem to hold back no more and placed a final, poignant kiss to my lips. 

She pulled back quickly, wiping her right eye with her forefinger before reaching her hand up to caress my cheek, her thumb delicately moving to smooth away where her tears had stained there. 

“You’re getting soft in your old age, Miss Wolfe.” It was supposed to sound light-hearted, but my voice came out thick and husky and cracked at her name. 

She gave me a watery smile. “What can I say,” she murmured. “You’ve gotten to me.”

I smiled back at her, reaching out to give her hand one last squeeze, and placed one final kiss on her cheek. 

I took a breath, straightening myself up. “Goodbye, Bernie. I’ll speak to you in a couple of days.” 

“Yes, I’ll call you,” she replied, nodding a little too exaggeratedly. We stood for a few more moments, our hands still joined, until I stood back. 

“See you soon.” 

“Yes, bye.” 

I made to drop her hand as I pulled away, but she clung onto it for as long as possible, until both of our arms could stretch no further and she was forced to let go. I couldn’t bring myself to turn around again, as I walked along my street, for fear that I would find myself running back to her, clutching her with all my might and begging her not to go, offering anything for us to run away and spend the rest of our lives together. I couldn’t do that; it wouldn’t have been fair on either of us. 

And that was the last time that I saw Berenice Griselda Wolfe.

———

I couldn’t help a tear leaking from my eye as the final verses of _Red Red Wine_ played out, signalling the end of my journey with her and hitting a little too close to home. 

_Red, red wine_

_It's up to you_

_All I can do, I've done_

_But memories won't go_

_No, memories won't go_

_I'd have sworn_

_That with time_

_Thoughts of you would leave my head_

_I was wrong_

_Now I find_

_Just one thing makes me forget_

I lifted my Shiraz up to my lips, desperate to quell the sickening ache in my chest. Despite all my best efforts, I had never gotten over her. I still loved her strong and true, never mind how much I chastised myself for it. And why should I love her? She had betrayed me, and left without a word. 

Still, I knew she deserved the chance to explain herself, though she had made little effort to do so so far. In less than forty-eight hours we would go to dinner, and hopefully resolve this once and for all. Whatever the outcome, at least I would have some way of closure. 

Nerves tugged at my stomach as I wondered if she was feeling the same as I, right now. Did she long for me as I did her? But what was it I was really longing for? I loved her, but I did not know if I was quite ready to forgive and forget, just yet. I needed to hear what she had to say. 

And in just two days, I would. 


	13. All Of My Heart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me: *panics this chapter is gonna be too short*  
> Chapter: *is one of the longest I've written*
> 
> Because the tape is ended now, the songs for each chapter might not always be included in the narrative; they might be a song playing on the radio or in a *coughs* place or just something I feel fits the general vibe of the chapter. 
> 
> Thank you so much for all your fantastic feedback and hope you enjoy the new chapter! :)

_ Missing Track: All Of My Heart - ABC _

* * *

 

No tears. 

That's what we promised one another, and that's how I stayed. I didn't expect to manage it; I had expected to get home and collapse the moment my bedroom door closed behind me. But why should I cry? In less than forty-eight hours I would get her phone call, and we would be alright. She would give me her new address and phone number and we would stay in touch, both counting down the days to Christmas and our reunion. 

I made sure to sit by the phone all day Monday, waiting, and when she didn't call then I sat in on Tuesday too, forgoing a lunch out with some of my old school friends in fear of missing her. I wasn't worried, at this point; I simply thought that she had been too busy, or had not yet unpacked her address book with my phone number in it, despite knowing that she could recite it by heart. 

It was on Friday morning that I noticed it, the dark knotting in my stomach, and I had bitten my nails right down until they were red raw. I told myself it was fine, she was just settling in, she _will_  call, but my gut feeling was screaming at me otherwise. My first thought was what if something had happened to her? How would I know? Surely I would have heard something by now?

Sunday morning, when it was time for me to leave for university myself, my parents practically had to drag me out of the house. I spent most of the car journey making my mother promise to answer the phone every time it rang, and forward all of my mail to me first class. If Bernie did ring, I made her vow to call my halls immediately and threaten whatever poor soul answered the phone with death should they not pass on the message. 

"I hate to say it, darling," my father had interrupted, his eyes flicking up at me in the rear view mirror. "But have you ever thought that she might not _want_ to get in touch?" My stomach dropped. "I mean," he continued. "People reinvent themselves when they go to uni. Maybe she wants to leave her old life behind, start anew." 

My glottis seemed to fail, my mouth opening and closing repeatedly for several moments before I managed to get any words out. "No— No, she told me— She _promised_ she'd call..." I couldn't quite comprehend the suggestion. She had been even more concerned about us keeping in touch than I had been, if that was even possible. She had talked about it constantly, made me promise over and over that we wouldn't allow our circumstances to wrench us apart. And _now?_

Eventually my father simply shrugged, his attention returning to the road whilst I convinced myself that he was unquestionably mistaken.

Still, I never cried. I was certain that there had been some kind of mistake, even though my gut twisted and my heart pounded more and more with each day that passed. I spent the whole first term waiting, hanging by the telephone, waiting every morning for the postman to arrive, so much so that I ended up on his Christmas card list. My housemates always joked that I was wasted as a medic and would be more suited to secretarial college, I was so fast at answering the phone and sorting the mail. I laughed it off, never breathing a word to anyone about the real reason I could never relax. 

When Christmas break finally arrived I was overjoyed. After all these months, I would have the chance to see her again. I could just go round and knock on her door, after all, and she would be there, waiting for me. She would have some explaining to do, but she would be there and we would be _together_. 

I didn’t go round on the first day I was home, though I was itching to. Her journey was longer than mine, after all, so she might not be there yet. But the following morning I sprang out of bed, put on my best blouse and skirt and strolled up the road to her home, my heart hammering with nerves and excitement. I steadied myself for a moment, before knocking loudly. 

At first I thought that they might be out; the car wasn’t there, and there was no noise from inside. But then I heard the key in the door, and I held my breath in anticipation.

“Yes?” 

I blinked as an elderly lady answered the door in her slippers and dressing gown. 

“I’m sorry to bother you. Is Bernie around?” 

The lady frowned. “Bernie?” 

I forced a patient smile. “Yes, Bernie. Berenice Wolfe. She lives here.” 

She shook her head with a frown. “I don’t know no ‘Berenice’,” she told me, her scratchy voice going through me like needles. “I’m the only one that lives here.”

I stood back for a moment, having a quick look to see if I had knocked on the right door. I had. 

“She definitely lives here,” I persisted. “Well, she’s at university now, but her parents… Joan and Barry?” I raised my eyebrows. 

The woman’s face broke out into a smile. “Ah, yes! Joan and Barry. Lovely couple.” 

There was a short silence as she nodded to herself. I widened my eyes at her, before gesturing around me when she didn’t speak again.

“So, where are they?” 

The lady frowned, then shook her head. “Oh no, dear. They don’t live here _now_. Haven’t done for a couple of months now.” 

“Well, where are they then?”

“Wrexham.”

“Wrexham?” I repeated incredulously, my mouth falling open. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, dear. The people that owned this house before me definitely said that’s where they were going. My daughter-in-law’s from there, you see, so I remembered.” She paused, watching me as I gaped. “Well, if that’s all?” 

All I could do was nod, at that point. I walked home in a daze, my feet dragging along the pavement and my arms hanging limply at my sides as I tried to comprehend just what was happening. 

“Mum, did you know that Bernie’s family moved?” I asked as soon as I was through the door. She turned around, wiping her hands on her pinafore. 

“Yes, they left a couple of months ago now. Her father has some new military project he’s been posted to work on in Wrex—“

“Wrexham, I know. You didn’t think to tell me?” I waved my arms around in frustration. She shook her head. 

“I didn’t think it was relevant. She’s at uni; she doesn’t live with them any more.” 

“Yes, but she would still have been back for Christmas!” I cried, running a hand through my hair. “Do you know whereabouts they went? Does anyone have a phone number?”

“Serena, you haven’t heard from her in over three months.” She put a hand on my shoulder and I immediately shrugged it off, my heart clenched. “She has your number, she has your address, she knows what university you’re at. I’m sorry, but if she wanted to be in touch, I think you would have heard by now.” She looked at me sympathetically, but I couldn’t accept her words. I turned and went to my room to again listen to our mixtape, as I had done almost constantly since we parted. How it never wore down and snapped, I’ll never know. Christmas came and went, and still I remained in denial. Still, I never cried. I couldn’t bear the notion that she didn’t want me. She had _promised_.

It was my first week back at university, when it finally all came pouring out. 

I was on a night out with my housemates the first weekend back in early January. Since discovering she had moved before Christmas, I had managed for the most part to keep my feelings in check, to bury my head in the sand and to put her towards the back of my mind. Whatever had happened, she must have a reasonable explanation and she will eventually be in touch, I told myself. We love each other; that’s what matters. Things will sort themselves out. 

But more and more, my gut told me otherwise, and by the time I had finished my first week back at uni, my optimism had reached its all-time low. I knew, in the pit of my stomach, that this wasn’t good, that my mother was right: if she wanted to get in touch, she would have done by now. I was angry, initially. Fuck her, that was my motto. But the sadness, the heartbreak, creeped up on me, gradually seeping through my body until it became all-consuming and I could no longer bear it. 

As I was so bitter at her actions, I had drunk more on this night out than I had for a long time. I wanted to forget all about Berenice Griselda Wolfe. _Fuck her_. So I drank and I drank and I danced and I danced and I threw myself at every man in the club that night. _Fuck her_. _I don’t need her_. And I made a good show of it. I _almost_ convinced myself.

About half way through the night, I got dancing with a man called Steven, who eventually struck up conversation and we took it from there. He came and sat with my friends and I at our table and we got on like a house on fire. He was a medic too, though a couple of years above, and he made me laugh, made me feel special, made me feel attractive in a way that I hadn’t felt in months. I really, really liked him. It’s just that he wasn’t her. But I powered on regardless. _Fuck her_. I was determined to have a good night, to hold myself proud, to not allow her to upset me. 

Then came the last dance, a slowed-down remix of ABC’s _All Of My Heart_. 

I was fine, when the first few chords played through, standing up and taking his hand, allowing him to lead me to the dancefloor, allowing him to put his hands on me and to move me to the music. Neither Bernie nor I had ever had any strong opinions on ABC; there were no particular memories attached to the song. But the lyrics hit just that little bit too close to home, and the guilt that already gnawed away at my stomach threatened to take over as I tried with everything in me to keep detached. 

_Once upon a time when we were friends_

_I gave you my heart, the story ends_

_No happy ever after, now we're friends_

I squeezed my eyes shut tight as he rested his chin on my bare shoulder, stubble scratching my skin in a way that made me feel dirty and invaded. _Fuck her, fuck her, fuck her_. 

_What's it like to have loved and to lose her touch?_

_What's it like to have loved and to lose that much?_

My heart was in my throat, my stomach spinning with the alcohol and the agony the lyrics provoked. I tried to focus on something else, ignore the words, concentrate on the man before me, but it all just felt so _wrong_. His hands on my waist, too big and too clumsy, his shoulders too tall and broad beneath my fingertips, his sharp aftershave and the harsh scent of Special Brew on his breath. His hair was too short and his jaw too square and his skin too rough and his eyes too blue and just _not_ _her_. It just felt _wrong_. 

_But I hope and I pray that maybe someday_

_You'll walk in the room with my heart_

_Add and subtract but as a matter of fact_

_Now that you're gone I still want you back_

_Remembering, surrendering_

_The kindest cut's the cruelest part_

_All of my heart_

And that was that. I could hold it no longer, could no longer stand the feeling of his body against mine and could no longer stand the hurt that had been building up in my chest for the past four months. I could no longer keep my emotions in check, pretend that I was okay, pretend that I had a heart that wasn’t shattered beyond all recognition and that I hadn’t lost all sense of myself, my identity, who I was, what I lived for, which way was up. 

So I burst into tears. Right in the middle of the dancefloor. And they weren’t just tears, tears that I could pass off as just being a little bit overemotional or ‘time of the month’. No, they were big, ugly, violent, all-consuming sobs that took over my entire body until I could do nothing but stand there, my face in my hands, my knees trembling with the effort of not throwing myself onto the floor and giving up on all life. They were the kind of sobs that give you a sore throat for days afterwards, the kind of tears that burn acidic in your eyes, the kind of hysteria that removes any self-consciousness about being seen in such a state in a public place. I did not care; all I was aware of was my own heart, laying in tatters in my chest, and the fact that I had lost her, forever, and not for the life of me seen it coming. 

My friends were confused, of course. They took me home, cleaned me up, put a bucket next to my bed and a big glass of water, told me that they supported me through anything and that they would always be there, if I needed to talk. But I couldn’t talk. I could never speak another word about Berenice Wolfe.

So the next day I woke up, had a shower, put the mixtape away, and got on with my life.

———— 

When I woke up the following morning, my stomach was alive with butterflies. 

_Tomorrow night, I have a date with Berenice Wolfe._

But it’s not a date, I told myself firmly. It’s just two old friends going out for dinner, trying to resolve a few issues. Nothing date-y about that. Not at all. Though something about the look in her eye when I suggested it… 

I was brought out of my thoughts by my phone buzzing on my bedside table. Yawning, I stretched over to see who was texting me, pulling out the charging cable so that I could hold it closer to my face. My stomach dropped. Two missed calls - one from Raf, one from Ric - as well as four text messages from Ric, Sacha, Morven and Bernie. I sat bold upright in bed, my finger tapping away at the screen. Had something happened at the hospital? Was everyone okay? Had there been a major incident? 

I tapped through to my inbox, my hand flying to my chest as I gasped at the contents. 

_Fletch just told me you and Ms Wolfe were at school together?? Is he winding me up?? Morven xxx_

_How on earth did you manage to keep from me the fact that you and ///Berenice Wolfe/// went to school together?!? And you were lovers!!??! I want details, NOW!! - RG_

_Were you really at school with Bernie Wolfe? Sacha XD_

_Serena we have a problem…_

A low groan fell from my lips as I tossed my phone away, flopping back down to bury my face in my pillows. Less than twenty-four hours. The NHS rumour mill really has outdone itself this time… 

I picked up my phone to reply to some of the messages, but quickly decided against it. I was already running late, and I didn’t have the energy to deal with all that now.

“Good morning, Auntie Serena,” Jason greeted me cheerily as I entered the kitchen, quickly flicking on the kettle for a much needed coffee. I reached into the cupboard for some _Fruit ’n’ Fibre_ for breakfast and set it on the table along with a bowl and spoon, waiting to bring the milk with me once I had made my drink. 

“It’s a lovely morning, isn’t it,” Jason commented, seemingly oblivious to my current stress levels. I forced a smile. 

“Quite,” I responded, snapping into action as the kettle flicked off and I could finally make my coffee and sit down for breakfast. 

“So, what are your plans for today, Jason?” I asked, allowing myself to relax slightly as the first sip of coffee passed my lips and I tucked into my cereal. It’s going to be okay…

“Well, I have a couple of surveys to do in ITU, and some on the children’s ward,” Jason nodded, looking up from the car magazine on the table. “But apart from that, pretty easy. How about you?” 

I shrugged. “You know me, Jason, I’ll be rushed off my feet as always,” I replied, taking a large mouthful of cereal. 

“Well, it’s the weekend tomorrow so then you can rest.” I nodded agreement, and we were silent for a couple of minutes as I devoured my breakfast and Jason went back to his magazine. I was just standing to put my bowl and mug in the sink when he spoke again. Just when I thought I'd heard the worst…

“Auntie Serena, is it really true that you and Dr Bernie were lesbians at school?” 

———

When I arrived at work, the department was in full swing. There had been a five car pile-up on the A1, so we had three new critical patients in before 9am. It didn’t stop the little pause they made as I walked past, though, the little glances to one another and the smirks. I rolled my eyes, shaking my head at them as I powered on through to my office. 

Almost before I had got my coat off, Raf was at the door. 

“Ms Campbell,” he knocked lightly, peering around the door. “If you’re ready, I need a second opinion on one of the RTC patients. I think the right kidney might be avulsed.”

I took a deep breath, steadying myself to face the day, before following him out onto the ward. After taking a look at the patient, I came to the same conclusion as he had and we quickly got her booked in for surgery.

“Right, if that will be all?” I began making my way back to my office. 

“Actually, Ms Campbell,” he interrupted, following until I turned round. “I know it’s none of my business, but—“ 

“If you utter one syllable of what I think you’re about to say…” I warned, raising my eyebrows and folding my arms. He stepped back slightly.

“Sorry, sorry,” he shook his head, knotting his fingers together. “Not appropriate for the workplace.” 

“No,” I agreed with a stern look. “And you tell Nurse Fletcher that he’s on bed-bath duty for the foreseeable future and that the next time I see him he’d better hope I’m in a better mood than I am today, otherwise I will not be responsible for my actions.” 

“You can tell him I second that,” Bernie chipped in, looking up at us from the nurses station with a sarcastic grin. I smiled at her. Raf looked wary. 

“Will do,” he nodded sharply before returning to work. I turned to lean against the nurse’s station next to her, closing my eyes and letting out a deep sigh. 

“I’m guessing you’ve had it from all angles too?” Bernie asked, looking at me sympathetically. 

“Messages from Ric, Morven and Sacha, and somehow Jason knows too - god knows where from! What about you?” 

“Dr Copeland, Essie Harrison, Zosia, and a lovely one from Marcus, too,” she muttered, signing off a couple of forms. “He said he heard it from one of the porters at St James’. Doesn’t news travel fast nowadays?” I gaped in shock, trying to think of something to say but eventually deciding to leave it. Rise above. 

“What’ve you got, then?” I asked, nodding at the paperwork whilst I moved around the station to the computer to check the theatre waiting list. 

“Two with crush injuries - looking like we’ll need to amputate there - and one ruptured large bowel and internal bleeding, though I’m not quite sure the blood is coming from the bowel,” she frowned, turning over a sheet of paper. “I’m just about to take that one into theatre now, if you wanted to scrub in? It’s going to be a messy one.”

I pursed my lips, looking at my schedule. “Well, I suppose Raf and Morven could take care of my avulsed kidney… Sure, why not?” I stood, quickly logging out before moving back around the nurses’ station. “I’ll go find them. What time will you start?” 

“Scrub in at ten to. Thanks.” She smiled up at me briefly, and unthinkingly I reached out to squeeze her arm before rushing off to find Raf. My hand burned where our skin had touched, my chest fluttering at the thought of the contact. I quickly resolved to put it out of my mind. Concentrate, Campbell. 

———

Theatre was tough. The man had started losing consciousness as we were scrubbing in, and when we opened him up there was so much blood that we wondered how he had lasted as long as he did. But thankfully, it didn’t take long for us to locate the bleed and get it sutured, and the surgery was completed in good time.

“Thanks for partnering me on that,” Bernie said as we were scrubbing out, standing just a step too close to me as we did. I tried not to hold my breath. 

“No problem,” I murmured, quickly clearing my throat as my breath caught. “You’d have done the same for me.” I frowned at myself inwardly for rambling. We were silent for a few moments, and I tried to steady my rapid heart rate. She was _so close_ , I could even smell her perfume. Black Opium, if my nose was correct. It was dizzying. 

“So,” Bernie announced suddenly, after a sharp breath. “I was thinking about maybe that new Italian on Princess Street on Saturday night? I’ve got a friend who could get us a table last minute.” She looked across at me as she rinsed her hands and I met her gaze. 

“Yes, of course,” I replied softly. “That sounds wonderful.” 

“They’ve got an excellent wine list,” she winked, nudging off the tap with her elbow. “Three different types of award-winning Shiraz, I’ve heard.” 

“Mmm, you do know how to show a girl a good time,” I grinned, winking back at her. We stood there for a few moments, our eyes never leaving one another’s. I couldn’t breathe. Being stood this close, all alone in the scrub room, made me feel more nervous around her, seeing as we were away from prying eyes. I thought about reaching out, resting a hand on her arm, on her cheek, or pulling her into an embrace. Just telling her that I was glad she was here, that I was happy to have her by my side again, in whatever capacity that might be. Or, of course, there was the other option, the one that had occupied my dreams and late night musings for many weeks now: grab her by the scrub top and kiss her senseless. 

Before I could decide upon any of these, one of the scrub nurses appeared at the door. She looked at the two of us with a smirk. 

“Ms Wolfe, Mr Hanssen wants to see you in his office. He says it’s urgent.”

Bernie held my gaze for one last moment, before turning away. “I’d better…” She gestured towards the door. “I’ll see you later.” 

“See you.”

She made her way off just as the next team were arriving to scrub in for another op. I quickly dried my hands, before rushing away to get on with my job.

———

The morning dragged, really. After the RTC victims were all either treated or shipped up to ITU, it was a relatively quiet shift. I resolved to pass it by catching up on some paperwork in my office, but my mind was focussed on other things, namely counting down the seconds until we were to go out for dinner tomorrow night. All these months, I had held myself back from her, taken a back seat and kept my distance. How was it that I couldn’t stand to wait just thirty hours to go out with her? 

My feet tapped and my fingers twiddled with my pen. I was itching to know why she had left, yes, but my mind seemed to have other priorities when thinking about this particular night, now. Above all, I was looking forward to spending some time with her outside of the workplace, away from the stress of our lives and able to relax around one another, once everything was out in the open. I missed her as a lover, yes, but most of all, in those lonely months following her departure, I missed my best friend. The wonderful, funny, fierce, beautiful girl with the honking laugh and the fire in her eyes. I missed _her_ , and it was that that I longed to have back more than anything. The rest was a bonus. 

“Afternoon,” I greeted her as she stepped into the office, closing the door softly behind her before going to sit in her chair. “Did you find out what Hanssen wanted?” 

She laughed quietly. “Before or after he asked me whether there was anything I needed to discuss with him concerning the nature of our relationship?” I raised my eyebrows in surprise. “No, it wasn’t all about that. I… I’ve been headhunted.” She didn’t take her eyes off her computer screen, her fingers tapping away. 

“I’m sorry, what?” I leaned forwards in my seat, my eyes widening. She sighed. 

“I’ve been headhunted, for a new trauma hospital they’re building in New Zealand. They want someone to oversee the whole running of the place. Kind of like Hanssen’s job but a lot more practical, more time on the ground. He wants me to get back to him by the end of the day.”

My stomach turned to ice. After all this time… She couldn’t leave _again_ , could she? Could she really do that? But then my heart hardened as I remembered, this was _Berenice Wolfe_ , the master of all disappearing acts. She could leave her family without a second thought, she left Alex, she had left me. Why on earth would she stay now?

I swallowed hard, sniffing slightly, holding my head high. I could feel myself closing off, could feel the walls building back up. _Fuck her_. 

“Right, well, um,” I stood from my chair, logging out of my computer and grabbing a stack of files. “I’m sure you’ll be sadly missed, but what can we do? I, um— I’m not feeling too well actually. I think I might be coming down with that stomach virus that’s going round. Do you mind if we take a rain cheque on the dinner?” 

“Sorry, Serena. Are you—“

I was already out of the door. 

———

For the rest of the shift, I avoided her, and in the times when we were forced to converse I was frosty. She seemed oblivious to what it was she had done, how she had made me feel. As I was looking over a scan for her and offering a second opinion, Bernie Wolfe, the least tactile of all creatures known to man, put her hand on my forehead, murmuring whether I was okay and offering to cover my shift if I needed to go home. I stood back quickly, telling her I was quite alright to finish my shift and that I had to get on. She looked at me with such care, such sympathy, that it made my stomach turn, knowing that it was all a show. 

By the end of my shift, all that was left in my heart was anger. How could she do this, again and again? How did people mean so little to her? How could she just turn off her feelings for people? Did she even feel anything in the first place? I felt so used, so deceived, even more so for the fact that I had allowed myself to hope that she was different, this time. I had thought that we were getting somewhere, finally, and that she cared. Clearly not. 

For the last three hours of the afternoon she had been nowhere to be seen, not that I particularly wanted to see her. Maybe she had taken the hint, and was avoiding me too, or perhaps she had packed in already, in favour of her swanky new job in New Zealand. I was seething, and I knew that I couldn’t drive home before I had calmed down, but didn’t want to bump into her so instead took myself outside for a breather, choosing one of the more secluded corners of the peace garden. 

I loved it out here. The contrast between the busy confines of the hospital and the small, quiet garden just beside it was heavenly. It allowed a step back from the drama and the chaos, the hurt and the pain of our everyday lives, allowed a private moment to collect oneself.

I cried. I couldn’t help it. The rage in my chest combined with the fresh sense of loss and betrayal made tears inevitable, and I had only just managed to hold them in long enough to get out of the hospital doors. But now, with only the sounds of my thoughts in my head, it was all too much. I hated her. Why did I let her get to me like this? I felt so weak, so ashamed of myself for not being able to control my feeling. My stomach twisted painfully and I thought for a moment that I might be physically sick, but managed to calm myself down just enough for that. I pulled a tissue from my pocket, taking deep and unsteady breaths as I wiped my eyes and nose.

“Oh, there you are! I’ve been looking for you.”

I almost gasped at the voice behind me, cutting through me like a shard of ice. The anger in my gut swelled. She doesn’t even realise what she’s done. I couldn’t get words out. I sniffed deeply, not turning around, not wanting her to see my tears. _Pull yourself together, Campbell._

“That was one hell of an afternoon! I’ve just finished a splenic artery aneurysm repair. I thought for a moment I might have been a bit out of my depth, but… I asked a nurse to page you but they said you’d already left?” 

I simply hummed agreement, unable to unclench my jaw. How could she be so oblivious? How could she just wander around having the time of her life, not caring about any of the hurt she’s caused? I swallowed thickly, taking a deep breath. _Calm down_.

“I’ve just been to see Hanssen—“

“Why did you do it, Bernie?”

I spun around, my pulse racing in my throat and my cheeks reddened with rage. She looked a little like a deer in headlights, her eyes wide and cigarette drooping in her mouth.

“I’m sorry?”

“How can you be so cold? You just leave everyone that loves you, bugger how they feel! Why? Why did you do it?”

“Serena, I don’t—“

She stepped towards me, her arm outreached, but I stepped away, quickly wiping my eyes on the sleeve on my cardigan. 

“Did you ever feel anything for me?”

“Serena, stop—“

“And now you’re leaving again,” I ranted on, not caring that my eyes were brimming again. “You left me, you left Alex, you left your husband and children. Do people really mean nothing to you? You weren’t even at Jonty’s funeral—”

“No, I was with Adam making sure he didn’t drink himself to death. And no, I'm not leaving again. I told Hanssen that I didn't want to lose you. Would you please just stop for a second?!” 

I froze, my fists still clenched as I stared her down, wrapping my arms around myself protectively, my teeth grinding and my jaw tight. I was seething. 

“That still doesn’t answer my question.”

“Well, I—“

“No more excuses, Bernie,” I waved a hand warningly. “This is it. If you can’t do me the courtesy of explaining, once and for all, well… Maybe it’ll be me that does the disappearing act this time.” 

She stood back slightly, blinking, her mouth open slightly. “I…” She gaped, her arms limp at her side. “I don’t know what to say.” 

I laughed harshly. “How about the truth, for once,” I spat, my eyebrows raised. 

“You need to tell me why you left.” 


	14. She's The One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this has been so long! Busy busy busy. Thank you for all your wonderful feedback on the last chapter, it really does make my day! 
> 
> A lot of the details in this surrounding Serena's life are canon divergent, but hell so is the whole fic so I decided I'd rather bend canon than have the song in the wrong year (because I just _had ___to use this song)
> 
>  
> 
> _Enjoy!_

_Missing Track: She's The One - Robbie Williams_

* * *

_“You need to tell me why you left.”_

Her eyes fell to the floor for a moment, her fingers knotting together. She coughed. 

“There’s no excuse for what I did, I know, and I’m sorry—“

“I don’t want to hear it, Bernie,” I cut in. “I just want to know what happened. Or had it been the plan all along? Seduce me, then leave me forever?” 

“No,” she murmured, her voice thickening. “No, Serena, of course not. I loved you _so much_ , it near killed me to have to leave you like that.” 

“So why, Bernie?” 

She sighed, holding my gaze for a few moments before dropping her shoulders resignedly and stepping over to the bench at the other side of the table she was leant against, sitting down heavily. She looked up at me expectantly, silently inviting me to join her, but I stayed standing, my arms folded protectively across my chest. 

“You’ll think I’m a coward,” Bernie murmured, her hands folding in her lap and her eyes downcast. I shook my head. 

“I’ll think you’re a coward if you don’t tell me,” I replied stonily. Her gazed flickered up to me momentarily, and I raised my eyebrows expectantly. 

She took a deep breath, ran a hand through her curls, and finally began to explain. 

:: 

You know, when we parted, that final time, I was so upset that I couldn’t go home for another hour or so, until I’d calmed down. I sat in the park, for a while, on the swings, just gazing blankly into the air. I remember thinking, then, that I was being absolutely ridiculous; I was going to speak to you the next day, or even that night if I had managed to get settled in quick enough. But I think I knew, deep down. I could feel the guilt, creeping into my stomach. I think I knew, somehow, that I had overstepped the line. 

When I finally arrived home, my mother was very quiet with me. I put it down to being home so late; we were to leave in less than an hour. I had packed all my things the previous day, though, so didn’t think it was that big a deal. Then I saw my father and he, too, was very solemn, and I knew that I had been caught out for something, that I had done something wrong. They weren’t very emotional people, you’ll remember, so I knew absolutely that their bad moods weren’t because they were going to miss me, or anything along those lines. I remember the drop in my stomach as I realised, the sickening twist as it crossed my mind that they knew about you and I, but I somehow convinced myself that they couldn’t know about us and that it was something else I had done, maybe the heavy drinking or that they had discovered that I wasn’t staying at yours all this time, just out partying all night. 

I was just beginning to wonder whether they would actually bring it up, whatever it was they were angry about. It was about two hours into the car journey, and they had both been absolutely silent for the duration. I was just beginning to relax with some reading…

“Berenice. Put the book away, for a moment, please,” my mother spoke from the passenger seat. She didn’t sound angry in a way that I had ever known before; her voice was entirely calm and vacant. I saw my father’s hands tighten on the steering wheel, and I knew I was in trouble. 

“Look, I won’t mince words here, Bernie. We saw you with Serena McKinnie. This morning.” 

I froze, my heart in my throat. “What?” 

“Don’t play dumb, Berenice,” my mother spat, her teeth clenched. “We saw you kissing her, on the lips. In full view of the road, for crying out loud!” She rose her voice incredulously.

“I…” I didn’t know what to say, what to think. I could hardly breathe. “I… It’s not what you think—“

“Please, Bernie,” my father said, shaking his head. “Please, don’t take us for fools. You know what you’ve done, and now you need to face the consequences of your actions like a grown up.” 

“I… I don’t understand.” 

“Well, you know full well that homosexuality is _against military law_.” 

I froze. Everything that I had ever worked for, everything that I had ever wanted for my whole life… I couldn’t believe that I had been so reckless. 

“What— What are you going to do?” 

“You know what my job title is, Bernie,” my father gritted his teeth, his breath coming in harsh bursts. “I could get in just as much trouble for not reporting this as you would for your… issues. Nobody wants anything to do with that, nobody at all. It’s a disease. It’s disgusting.” 

“It’s an abomination,” my mother chipped in, her voice thick. She sniffed quickly. “If anyone found out…” 

“Yes, if anyone found out…” My father shook his head. “You do realise that we would have no choice but to turn our backs on you? How would you expect us to live, with everyone knowing what you’d done?” 

I couldn’t speak. I was absolutely paralysed by fear. 

“So,” my father continued. “I’m going to do you a deal. I won’t report you, this time. But if I find out this has _ever_ happened again, I will do. I make you a firm promise there.” 

I nodded. 

“And you’re to go to the doctor every week. Your mother called just before you got home; there’s a very good one just around the corner from your university. He’ll help you. And you’re to have no more contact with Serena McKinnie. If I find out you’ve had so much as a phone call, I _will_ have no hesitation in cutting you off. I won’t have this kind of thing in my family. _Ever_. Do you understand?” 

What else could I do? I wanted to tell him to stick it, I really did, but I was just so _scared_. All my life, all I’d ever wanted to do was to join the military, you know that. And the prospect of losing not only that, but my family too, no matter how bigoted they were… So I agreed, though it absolutely crushed me to do so. I didn’t see how I had any other choice. 

I was alright, for a couple of weeks. I managed to put it out of my mind, with meeting new people and everything, all the nights out and the busy schedule. But then, as things quietened down a bit and I had more time to myself, I couldn’t keep my mind away from it. I felt so angry, so frustrated at myself for not having the strength to stand against them. And all I could think of, every free thought was of you. It was driving me insane, and that bloody therapy didn’t help much either. So I started going out more, pretty much every night, and staying in bed all day. I missed almost all of my lectures and seminars, and couldn’t concentrate in the ones I did attend. I cried every moment that I was alone, though I couldn’t tell anyone that. We ended up getting our dorms renovated, funnily enough, because I always blamed my running nose and puffy eyes on a mould allergy! Looking back now, I can see I was very depressed, but what help could I get? I couldn’t tell anyone what it was that was troubling me, of course, and going on antidepressants wouldn’t have gone down well with my family or my military career. 

So I kept going as I was, wasting myself away, until it got to first year exams. I failed every single one. I was hauled in front of the dean, ready to be thrown out. Part of me thinks that was the point all along, really. If I was thrown out, had been told I was simply not cut out for the military, I would have an excuse to go back and find you again, to say ‘fuck you’ to my parents and run away and live the life I wanted to lead. But my father had a lot of influence, being a commander, and he got me a second chance. I had to resit my entire first year, since I had missed the majority of the material, and… that’s when I met Marcus. And I fell in love with him. He made me laugh, made me blush, made me feel a bit more of myself again. My parents were happy, I stopped the therapy, and everything started to fall into place. I had a family, a home, and my military career allowed me to have just the right amount of distance that it wasn’t apparent that I wasn’t being entirely true to myself. Until Alex came along, of course. 

::

“So there you have it,” she finished, squeezing her hands between her thighs, her legs bouncing slightly. “My life in fifteen minutes.” 

I couldn’t speak. I wouldn’t quite say I was speechless, but I… What could I say? I felt terrible for her, for what she had had to go through. I had to suffer a broken heart, yes, but I don’t know if I would have managed to survive the homophobia on top of that. I wanted to comfort her, but couldn’t help the feeling that it was too late. What was done was done, and now… what? 

“I know I should have been stronger,” she apologised, her head bowed. “I just… I couldn’t bear the thought of losing everything, my family, my career. But even now… sometimes I feel like I sacrificed the wrong thing.” She looked up at me, her eyes wide and vulnerable. 

She meant me. She meant that she wished she hadn’t sacrificed _me,_ all those years ago. Her entire life… What would have happened, had she done so? Would I have forgiven her, for leaving me without a word? Would we have rode off into the sunset, only to fall apart weeks later? I couldn’t help but wonder. Were we meant to be, or was it purely circumstance that kept throwing us together, as it had been with her and Alex?

“Say something,” she murmured, and I froze. I didn’t know what to say, what to think. I couldn’t process what had been said, couldn’t decide how it had made me feel. 

I cleared my throat. “I’m sorry you had to go through all of that,” I replied clinically, after a pause. “I can’t imagine having… having to deal with all of that ill-feeling.” 

She barked out half a laugh. “You don’t know the half,” she muttered. I sighed.

“It’s a mess, isn’t it.” She looked up at me and I allowed tears to fill my eyes. None would spill, however. “I need time to think,” I announced, pulling my arms tighter around myself. 

“I understand,” she whispered, playing with her fingernails. “But believe I mean it wholeheartedly when I say… leaving you is one of my biggest regrets, and it has never left my mind or my conscience, not truly.” She held my gaze for a moment. I coughed. 

“Still wasn’t enough to make you get in touch, though, was it?” I snapped, a little too hastily. She looked wounded. “I’m sorry,” I breathed, shifting from one foot to the other. “Just… give me time?” I said it on a questioning intonation, but it wasn’t a question, really. Not of her, at least. I didn’t know what I needed, couldn’t tell my gut instinct from a tweak of indigestion. I felt my breaths become more shallow, and knew I needed to leave. 

“I’m sorry,” I murmured again, my chest becoming tight. “I… I need to think.” 

Before she had time to argue, I had rushed away, back to my car and away from the hospital. 

::

Arriving home that evening, I had never been more glad to find that Jason was not yet home. He had gone to Celia’s house for supper, so wouldn’t be back for another hour or so. I sat at the kitchen table, my hands clasped together, forehead creased, brain whirring so fast that I couldn’t quite work out what it was that I was thinking. I decided to settle it down with a large glass of Shiraz.

After thirty-three years, finally I had learnt just what it was that had kept her away. And now? I felt slightly numb, if truth be told, as though I were outside of my own emotions. I know that I should have felt some kind of relief, really; it hadn’t been anything that _I_ had done, after all. But all I was left with was… unrest? 

My heart hammered in my chest. Adrenaline. Fight or flight. Fight for her, or run from her? Was that what my brain was telling me to do? I couldn’t tell through the whirring of thoughts, visions of her in a dank therapy room, having it drilled into her that she was defective and disgusting, of her alone, having no one to turn to, sobbing until she was blue in the face. That was not the Bernie Wolfe that I knew, or had ever known. She must have been in agony. 

I knew that I should be glad that she had found Marcus, eventually, and found happiness with him, but I couldn’t help but feel slight resentment there. She had moved on from me, as I had her; where was the problem with that? But all my mind could scream was _it should have been me_. 

And still, though she had finally been honest, and told me exactly what I had asked of her, I couldn’t quite tell if I was ready to trust her. The day had been a rollercoaster, going from nerves and excitement about our date to devastation at the thought of losing her once more. Again, my mind listed all the people in her life, supposed loved ones that she had run from. How could I ever be sure, be absolutely certain that my heart was safe with her? Could we ever reconcile, with that doubt always lingering in the back of my mind? Was it fair on either of us that way? 

But then there was the flip side: all these months I had spent resenting her, hating her, punishing her - did I really deserve her forgiveness for that? I had been horrible and self absorbed, I knew. Holding a grudge for over thirty years… it’s not the best display of character really, is it? And after all she had been through…

My head snapped up at the sound of Jason’s key in the door, and I quickly wiped beneath my eyes, standing to greet him, though my mind still buzzed on. I didn’t sleep at all that night, tossing and turning and willing my head to just _shut up_ for goodness sake. But I just didn’t feel _right._ How could I possibly be at ease, whilst we were on such bad terms? It just isn’t how things are supposed to be. 

I froze mid-turn. _It isn’t how things are supposed to be_. I am not who I want to be, without her. No matter in what capacity, something just… didn’t feel natural, us being apart. I had both received and given the cold shoulder with Edward, whilst we were married, more times that I could care to remember, but it never felt like this. I didn’t care, truth be told. We had never been the most suited of couples, I’ll be the first to admit. But…

I shook myself, looking at the clock on the nightstand. 3:22am. Too late to be running over these things rationally in my mind. That was another thing that bothered me, about Bernie: what if this were all simply heightened emotion, and as soon as we were to reconcile I would discover that she wasn’t what I really wanted, that I was simply longing for days gone, and had no real feelings for her now at all? How could I ever be sure? 

How could anyone ever be sure? 

It was the following afternoon - Saturday afternoon - listening to the radio in the kitchen, that I made a decision.

_I was her she was me_

_We were one we were free,_

_And if there’s somebody calling me on_

_She’s the one_

Upon hearing those words, thoughts of Berenice Wolfe still whirring around my head almost dizzyingly, I remembered… _my wedding day_. 

_::1999::_

I had woken up with an awful feeling of dread, the morning Edward and I were due to be married. Not that I hadn’t felt that in the lead up to the wedding at all, when I was at home alone with a young Elinor, knowing that he was playing away with some other woman but somehow not being able to find it in me to call it off. We had a child; I needed to be responsible for my daughter, to give her a stable home. And of course, there was my mother’s disapproval at having a child out of wedlock. 

“Serena, get up for heaven’s sake! We’re going to be late!”

I groaned quietly at the knock on the door, before calling that I would be out in five minutes. Two passed, before Elinor landed on my chest. 

“Wake up mummy! You need to put on your dress!”

I smiled despite myself, looking up hazily at my little girl, her long hair swept back with a rose pink ribbon that matched the gown she was wearing. She was beautiful, and as always it knocked me for six how I could have possibly birthed something so completely, utterly _perfect_. 

“Serena!” 

“I’m getting up!” I yelled back, lifting Elinor up slightly so that I could sit back against the headboard, with her on my lap. “Your granny is in a frightful grump this morning, isn’t she?” I murmured into her hair, taking a deep breath. Elinor nodded. 

“She says you’re lazy,” she giggled. I smiled at the sound.

“Ah, well, we both know how granny is after a Sunday roast though, don’t we?” Elinor laughed again, her fingers clinging to my nightdress. “You look beautiful, sweetheart,” I murmured, hugging her tightly, and I knew then that this wedding had nothing to do with me and my wants at all. It was all for her. Elinor needed a happy family. 

Still, unease niggled at my gut, twisting and turning the corners of my lips downwards, and by the time we were on our way to the church, my heart was in my throat.

“Everything alright, Serena?” My best friend Kate asked, in the back of the bridal car. Elinor was seated on my father’s lap, as she was to be my other bridesmaid, and my mother in the front.

I coughed, snapped out of my trance. “Yes, fine,” I replied shortly. “Just nerves.”

“I told you you should have had something to eat this morning! You’ll be passing out at the alter—“

“Yes, alright, mum,” I sighed, rubbing my temples. Kate grinned, giving my arm a squeeze. 

“Don’t worry, it’s natural to be nervous, biggest day of your life and all that.” I raised an eyebrow at her. I had never quite understood that sentiment, that the happiest day of your life were to be that of your wedding. God help me if it was. 

“I envy you,” she added, with a small smile. I shook my head. 

“Whatever for?”

The driver called out that we were soon to arrive, and Kate leaned over to begin adjusting my veil. 

“Well, not everyone gets a soulmate,” she chatted absentmindedly. I frowned.

“Yeah, it’s nice concept, but really—“

“I wish I could just hurry up and meet mine,” she murmured, smiling sadly as the car ground to a halt. We were silent as I struggled out of the car, my dress slightly crippling with its thick crinoline and long train. We were stood in the lobby of the chapel before I spoke again. 

“What’s wrong with Malcolm?” I asked quietly, as my mother fussed around with some late-arriving guests. “Is he not your, uh, soulmate? You’ve been with him for years.” 

She sighed heavily. “Yeah, I love him,” she replied, with a wry smile. “But I’ll never marry him. I love him, but he’s not ‘the one’, as it were.” She chuckled half heartedly. I froze, looking forward at the closed doors of the main chapel, envisioning what lay beyond it, and again that feeling of dread twisted in my gut, the feeling that this was all _wrong_. 

“I’m sorry, I just need to—“ I gestured towards the bathroom, before hastily turning away.

“Do you need a hand—“

“No, I’ll be quite alright,” I added hurriedly, almost breaking into a run as I pushed through the door and stuffed myself into a cubicle, locking the door and sitting down heavily on the closed toilet lid.

I laid my head in my hands. Why was I doing this to myself? We were here, we were getting married - there was no doubt about that. I _had_ to go through with it, for my daughter, for my mother, for everyone that had turned up today. I was being so _selfish_. 

Kate’s words rang in my mind. _Soulmates_. I had given up on the concept. Surely it was simply something reserved for romantic novels. Either way, I knew that that definitely wasn’t the way I felt about Edward. But why not? I loved him; I was certain of that. Why the hell would I put myself through his ridiculous drinking habits and questionable morality if not? But still, there was something missing…

_Though the sea will be strong_

_I know we’ll carry on_

I took a deep, steadying breath, listening to the soft hum of the radio perched on a little stool in the corner of the room through the closed toilet door. The words rang true. We had been through rough patches - hell, sometimes I thought our whole relationship was a rough patch - but we always made up, and somehow I felt that we were stronger for it. We did one another’s heads in, but surely we would muddle through. Who needs a soulmate anyway…

_If there’s somebody calling me on_

_She’s the one_

And my stomach lurched, and suddenly I knew. I knew what was wrong, why _he_ was wrong. I sniffed deeply. _No. Don’t do this to yourself, not now._ I had locked her away, in my mind, for more than ten years now. _Don’t you dare._

But it’s funny, the human mind. You tell it not to do something, to ignore something, and it just makes it all the more prominent. I held my breath, squeezed my eyes shut tight against tears and the weight in my chest. But I could see her, so vividly it was almost as though she was in the room with me, could see her smile and the freckles across the bridge of her nose, the glistening of her eyes and the rouge of her lips, could feel her breath on my cheek, could smell her skin and her shampoo, could feel her all around me. 

_She’s the one_

_Yeah, she’s the one_

The first tears fell. 

My soulmate is not Edward, nor any man; my soulmate is a woman. 

A woman that I can’t have. 

“Serena, are you okay?” 

I coughed, quickly grabbing a tissue to dab at my eyes. “Yes, I’m coming.” 

She had left me. She didn’t want me. My soulmate wasn’t meant for me. 

So I would just have to settle for what I had. 

“Ready?” Kate asked with a smile as I exited the toilets, taking my father’s waiting arm. 

“As I’ll ever be.” I forced a smile as her and my mother fussed with my dress and veil. Then the doors opened before me, and, on shaky legs, I married the wrong man. 

::

_She’s the one_

_She’s the one_

Tears stained my cheeks now as I sat at the kitchen table, my fingers burning around my cup of tea as I realised that she had always been there, in my mind. _It has always been her_. Had I been waiting for her, all these years, without even realising it? Is it possible to love someone for that long, with no contact? 

The twinge in my heart told me it was. I knew what I had to do.

I picked up the house phone from the receiver, hesitated a few moments. Would she even be home? I decided to chance it.

I dialled her home number, my stomach flipping violently, my heart in my throat, thumb resting over the call button. _This is it._

I pressed call, allowed it to ring three times, and hung up.


	15. What We Started

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all: Thank you all so, so, so much for all the fantastic feedback you've been giving me. It really does make my day/week/year so keep it coming! 
> 
> Sorry this took so long, I've been hella busy and it was quite hard to write (as you'll probs understand when you read it). Nearly finished now!! Two chapters to go! (Though I'll probably do an epilogue)
> 
> Shout out to Liadan without whom this story would probs have been abandoned months ago
> 
> Also happy berena day! One year since our faves were first on screen together!!
> 
> (P.S. the Avril song isn't featured in the chapter but I wanted to include it bc I had it on repeat writing the last scene and would have put it in the chapter if I could) 
> 
> Enjoy!!

_Missing Track: Into You - Ariana Grande_

_Missing Track: What We Started (feat. BullySongs) - Don Diablo, Steve Aoki & Lush & Simon_

_Missing Track: Give You What You Like - Avril Lavigne_

* * *

_Seventeen. Eighteen. Nineteen. Twenty. Twenty-one…_

My cool fingertips rested gently on the inside of my wrist, counting as my heart pounded in my chest. Pulse 103. Mild tachycardia. Hardly surprising really…

I closed my eyes, leaning back and taking a steadying breath. I could feel the adrenaline coursing through my veins, the urge to run, but I can’t, not now. I’ve been running for the past five months. Not anymore. 

The taxi hit a speed-bump, and my eyes flashed open. Town looks busy tonight. Already, revellers are filling the streets, spilling out of bars and restaurants, and all looking more than a little bit worse for wear, too. I took a deep breath. Maybe I should have had a drink before I came out, calmed the nerves. Too late now. I lifted my phone up to check the time. 11:03pm. More or less perfect timing. After sending one final text to Jason, I hastily switched it off, discarding it in the bottom of my bag. Tonight, there can be no distractions.

“Whereabouts d’you want dropping, love?” The driver asked, his voice muffled slightly by the plastic screen between us. 

“Anywhere here will do,” I replied, leaning forward and fishing around in my purse for the fare. Eventually, with trembling fingers I managed to hand it over to him, and quickly exited the cab. 

The street was packed. I must have chosen the busiest Saturday of the summer, I thought, before suddenly remembering that it was payday weekend and so naturally everyone would be out now. My breathing was shallow and uneven, and I took a moment to steel myself, to take in my surroundings. 

I couldn’t remember the last time I visited this side of the city. It must be over two years ago, when the staff and I had taken Ric to a little Thai place round the corner for his sixtieth birthday. This street is one of the busiest for nightlife in Holby, with both sides lined with popular bars and restaurants. Not a single one remains, however, from 1983. I sighed as my mind pictured it, as it was: the neon lighting, the tacky interior decor, the groups of lads standing outside with matching Paul Young haircuts. The good old days, some might say. I don’t know if I quite agree. 

Somewhat unsteadily, I began to make my way down the street, concentrating on my breaths as my chest pounded on. My heart twinged as I walked past the bus stop - our bus stop - at which we waited every Sunday morning for the first ride home, exhausted with dark circles under our eyes and hair sticking out on end, yet somehow simultaneously feeling on top of the world. I remembered how we used to bump into one another, as we stood, purposefully teasing each other with the contact and seeing who would be the one to keep a straight face. She always won. She would brush her fingertips across my own, across my hip, across my waist, her arm snaking around me before quickly retreating as though nothing had happened. Sometimes, she would whisper in my ear, her hot breaths tickling my ear and making me squirm as she told me of all the things she wished she could do to me, right there and then, at the bus stop. Even now recalling it, I felt a blush creeping into my cheeks, a small smirk tugging at the corners of my lips. I moved hastily on.

It took me five more minutes to get to my destination with the volume of people around and waiting for traffic lights, and when I arrived outside, I didn’t know if I could go any further. My eyes flitted to the side of the club, heat rising in my neck and my stomach flipping as I remembered us around there, thirty-three years ago. It’s not called ‘Starlight’ any more, I noticed. ‘The Darkroom’. I raised my eyebrows skeptically. 

Can I really do this? 

How easy it would be, right now, to just turn around and leave, to go home and go to bed and forget for a moment that she ever existed. But I didn’t want to do that, not really. I wanted her. I loved her. I knew that this was what I had to do. Had she even gotten the message, though? It occurred to me that I may have been slightly too cryptic in my signals. Still, if she were inside, then… I need to make things right. This needs resolving. Now.

The bouncers eyed me skeptically as I made my way inside, no doubt thinking what on earth I was doing in a nightclub at my age. I’d forgotten quite how grimy these places were; I felt dirty already, before I was even in the main room. The floor was disgusting and my feet stuck to it with each step. Did it really used to be like this, or had I just forgotten that minor detail? Or had I simply been purely too drunk whenever I was here to notice? The latter was probably more true. 

And then I was inside. The music was deafening, a song I hadn’t heard before. 

_Tell me what you came here for?_

_'Cause I can't, I can't wait no more_

_I'm on the edge with no control_

_And I need, I need you to know,_

_You to know, oh_

Did it really used to be this loud? The night is young, but already the room is packed. I looked around, remembering it how it used to be. There are less tables now, removed in favour of a few compact booths around the edges of the room, so there was more space for people to dance. The brightly coloured flashing disco-lights had been removed, unsurprisingly, replaced by lasers and UV lights. The glitter-ball remained, though, suspended on the high ceiling. I wondered briefly if it was the same one. Unlikely. 

As I made my way over to the bar, I couldn’t help but see us, on the dancefloor, all those years ago. I envisioned us within the crowd, our eyes never leaving one another’s, foreheads creased with restraint as we teased one another, fought to keep our hands to ourselves until one of us buckled and dragged the other around the corner to the hotel. I felt that pounding in my heart again. I missed it; I missed _her_. I missed her touch and her scent and her smile and her heart. And I was determined to get it back.

Eventually I managed to elbow my way to the front of the bar. It was poorly staffed for a Saturday night, with only three young girls serving, so I anticipated a long wait. My shoulders tensed and the hairs on the back of my neck stood up, knowing that she might be in this room, right now. Casually, I looked around at the bustling crowd, scanning the faces. Nothing. What if she hadn’t gotten the message? What if she didn’t _want_ to see me? My fingertips drummed on the countertop. 

A shot of tequila, lime wedge balanced carefully on the rim of the glass, appeared in front of me. 

_Remember when we were young_

_Breaking every rule they made_

_I’ll never change what we’ve done_

_It made us who we are today_

I turned to the side, to the hand that had placed it there, delicate, delicious fingertips that I would recognise anywhere, and suddenly all the breath was gone from my lungs and I couldn’t speak, only beam at her in relief as she smiled at me nervously.

“I was beginning to think you we’re having me on,” she shouted over the music. I blushed, looking down at my feet.

“Of course not,” I replied, shaking my head, before looking back up to meet her eyes. I felt that there was something I ought to add, but whatever it was, I didn’t know. I was at a complete loss for words. My palms were sweaty, my heart racing, my knees weak. Just having her here, this close, after all this time, seemed too much for my mind to process. The volume of the crowd meant that she was stood only inches apart from me, and one false move and our bodies would collide, press flush against one another. Could I really cope with that?

_I takin' every chance I get_

_To make us who you won't forget_

_Who we are, who we are_

Her eyes softened, and she placed a reassuring hand on my arm. Sparks shot through me at her touch, dizzying. “Drink up.” Her head jerked in the direction of the shot pointedly. I nodded, forgoing the salt and deciding instead to simply take it down, quickly biting the lime to distract from the awful taste. Was it always that bad? “They don’t do Shiraz anymore,” she explained, gesturing over to a free server. “So I didn’t know what to get.” 

I shook my head, my eyes screwed up from the taste. “I’ll get a gin and tonic,” I decided, telling the barmaid and then gesturing for Bernie to do the same, though she opted for straight whiskey instead.

The atmosphere between us was thick. There was an elephant in the room and we both knew it, but… I was just so happy that she was here. My heart fluttered in my chest. I missed her _so much_. I smiled at her again, and she smiled back, her cheeks slightly reddened, her eyes soft and warm, the curls that I loved so much framing her face beautifully. She was an angel, in my eyes, and I just…

_This is what we started_

_This is what we started_

I couldn’t tear my eyes away from hers. I was entranced, spellbound. We were stood so close that I could feel the heat of her, though we weren’t quite touching, and smell the Black Opium on her clothes. Goosebumps raised on my skin at the anticipation of her touch, at the thought of her pressed against me, her lips on that ever so sensitive spot just behind my ear. Anticipation. That’s what I felt. My eyes flitted to her lips, rouged and inviting. I knew that we needed to talk, though. _That’s why we’re here, first and foremost,_ I reminded myself, appealing to my rational mind. 

_They can't hold us down_

_They'll never be, never be_

_Never be, never be us_

But I never did quite seem capable of rational thought, when it came to her.

I grabbed her by the arms, and, for the first time in thirty-three years, pressed my lips to hers. 

It was gentle, for a few moments. Almost shy. Both of us were tense, after all that we had been through, but soon my hands came up to cup her face, my body pressing flush against her as I familiarised myself with her mouth once more, unable to stop myself from grinning into the kiss as my stomach did somersaults and the tension dropped from my shoulders, replaced only by desire. 

She was every bit as delicious as I remembered. Her lips were soft, her hands firm on my hips as we tasted one another. I grazed my teeth across her bottom lip, pulling on it slightly before diving back in, my hands moving to the back of her neck as the kiss deepened, hunger taking over, biting and fierce. 

And then I could barely breathe, my head spinning as I lost myself in her, but I didn’t care. The building could be burning around us and still I would be unable to tear myself away. Her hands moved up from their place on my hips to my waist, fingertips dragging across sensitive skin through my jacket and I whimpered as I felt my body responding, my fingers tightening on her neck, my kisses hot and desperate, fingers knotting in her hair and hips bumping against hers as I devoured her.

I don’t know how long we stood there, at the bar, hungrily biting and sucking at one another’s mouths until our cheeks burned scarlet and our lungs screamed for air, but when we broke apart we found that the barmaid had given up and gone to serve someone else, and the crowd around us was thickening.

_This is what we started_

_It’s everything that we ever wanted_

She rested her forehead against mine, eyelids fluttering in exhilaration, breaths quick and sharp. “I’ve been wanting to do that for thirty years,” she panted, her voice light with joy. I grinned back. 

“I’ll second that.” I dived in for another kiss, open-mouthed and greedy. She moaned softly as my tongue slipped into her mouth, a sound that went straight between my legs, and suddenly I was on autopilot, grabbing her wrist tightly. 

“Let’s get out of here,” I murmured against her lips, and before she had time to reply I was dragging her through the crowds, my knees shaky and my stomach alive with butterflies.

I knew what I wanted, what I _needed_ , and I was going to get it. 

“Serena—“ 

I cut off her words with another bruising kiss, my chest heaving with restraint at not ripping her clothes off here and now. I brushed my hand across her waist and felt her melting into my touch, heard the sharp intake of breath between our kisses, and knew that she wanted it too, that she like I was barely restraining herself. 

“Come on,” I murmured, breaking the contact of our lips and threading my fingers through hers with a smile. She nodded, her eyes shining, her thumb brushing gently over my knuckles, before allowing me to pull her with me down the street.

Our old hotel wasn’t there any longer. Unsurprisingly, it had been closed down by health and safety inspectors years ago, so instead I opted for a slightly more up-market Travelodge just three buildings down from Starlight, or ‘The Darkroom’ as it now was. She stood behind me as I booked us in, relieved when they said that they had a room, despite the busy weekend, and when I was handed our keycard my fingers were trembling, my pulse thundering loud in my ears and making me feel slightly disorientated as I realised that this was happening, I was here, I was doing this. 

The lift ride was tense, neither of us daring to look at one another for fear we wouldn’t make it to the hotel room in time. I could hear her shallow breaths, though, and that only intensified the anticipation and arousal that I felt, knowing that she too felt that aching in her groin, seeing her shift awkwardly from one foot to the other out of the corner of my eye. 

_“Third floor.”_

We came to a halt, and it took us both a moment to compose ourselves enough to step out of the lift. As we did, our arms brushed, and I had to bite the insides of my cheeks to hold back a moan as my body reacted to her touch. I blinked hard, looking lost. Room 318. I saw the arrows pointing down the corridor to the left of us, and hurried down it, Bernie following close behind. 

Eventually, we arrived at our door. I fumbled with the keycard, my hands trembling as I tried to slot it into place. Gently, she placed her hand over mine, guiding it to the card slot. My knees almost gave way beneath me. Her hands were as soft and warm as I had always remembered them, her fingers delicate and her nails neatly manicured and cropped short. 

The door clicked open. 

She stood back, her hand leaving mine as she gestured for me to lead the way into the darkened room. I did so, my steps unsteady as I tossed my handbag on the floor just inside. The door fell closed behind us, and I gasped as I felt her hand on my back through my jacket, softly brushing along my spine as her other arm creeped around my waist and her lips fell on the base of my neck. I shuddered, leaning back as she moulded her body to mine, her hot breaths tickling as she ran her tongue along the line of my neck, up to the back of my ear, before nipping gently at my earlobe, small hums of pleasure escaping her lips as she did so, her hips pressing insistently against my behind.

“Bernie…” I breathed, my hand covering hers on my abdomen, interlinking our fingers. Her other hand was firm on my waist, leverage to help manoeuvre us towards the bed in the centre of the room, her lips still pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses to my neck and causing goosebumps to rise on my skin. 

“I can’t believe… I haven’t told you… since I got back… how absolutely… breathtakingly… beautiful you are,” she whispered in between kisses. “I’m sorry… I’m so, so sorry I didn’t tell you. You are so beautiful, Serena Campbell.” Her hand left my waist to flick on the bedside lamp; I quickly switched it off again. Somehow, having it on didn’t feel right. 

I arched my back, grinding my arse against her hips and smirking at her sharp intake of breath. “I could say the same thing to you, soldier,” I replied, my voice sounding infinitely more composed than I felt. My legs were barely holding me up, my chest tight and mind racing too fast for me to make out. All I could feel was her, pressed behind me, and the borderline painful arousal between my thighs. 

I turned, my palms running smooth up her arms over her jacket, squeezing firm biceps before lifting up to her collar whilst peppering light kisses along the line of her jaw to her lips. We stood there, like that, for several more moments, only the sounds of our heavy breaths and our lips moving together filling the room. I pushed the jacket off her shoulders, hearing it land with a soft thud as my hands tugged at her blouse where it was tucked into her tight jeans, needing to feel her skin beneath my fingertips once more. She let out a little gasp, biting my bottom lip as she pushed into my touch, her kisses becoming deeper and more heated as she mirrored my movements, quickly ridding me of my coat before fumbling with the buttons at the top of my blouse. I shivered as her cool fingers brushed the line of my collarbone, my head spinning with the intensity of my arousal and my racing heart, and realised that I needed to sit down.

Turning her around, I pushed her down so that she was perched on the edge of the bed before moving forward to straddle her, moaning slightly as I rolled my hips against hers. I heard her chuckle, her lips leaving mine in favour of running the tip of her tongue along my newly exposed collarbone. My hands ran through her hair, listening to her soft breaths of approval as I tugged slightly on her curls the way I used to, back in 1983. It was every bit as soft and perfect as it had been back then, and I felt emotion rising in my throat at the memory before quickly swallowing it back, fisting my hands tighter as she brushed her lips over the fabric of my bra over my blouse, causing me to roll my hips just that little bit harder.

“Eager,” she commented with a smirk, fumbling with the buttons of my blouse and pushing it over my shoulders. I shivered as the cool air hit my bare back, hips now rolling at a regular pace. 

“Well…” I breathed, gasping as she pulled down the cup of my bra and took a nipple into her mouth, swirling around it with her tongue before sucking lightly. “Mmm… keep doing that.” I held her head in place as I arched into her, her little hums of delight sending a tingle down my spine. I moaned in protest as I felt my nipple go cold as it left her mouth with a pop, but soon she was uncovering my other breast and repeating her action, my breaths coming sharper and sharper as I rutted against her. 

“Get back on the bed,” I managed to pant out eventually, lifting myself shakily off her just enough to allow her to scoot back before climbing over her, my lips crashing down on hers with ravenous hunger as I made quick work of unbuttoning her blouse, tossing it aside along with her bra and my own. Our kisses slowed for a few moments as I pressed myself flush against her, both relishing the skin on skin contact, the feeling of our hearts beating against one another. _I love you_ , I wanted to say; I couldn’t. My hand moved to cup her breast, re-familiarising myself, remembering how it used to feel. Both of our bodies had changed with age and hardship and motherhood, all the moments of one another’s lives that we had missed. But by God… was there ever a woman more beautiful? 

I leaned up on my elbows, breaking the kiss to gaze down at her in the dim light that spilled through the open curtains at the other end of the room. Her eyes were heavy and darkened with arousal, her lips swollen from the force of our kisses, her cheeks flushed. I took a moment to take her in, all the new lines on her face, around her eyes. The small scar on her hairline from a piece of shrapnel in the explosion, the sun damage on her cheeks, a few extra freckles that hadn’t been there in her youth, all so beautiful. I felt myself welling up again, so quickly moved to place a gentle kiss on the corner of her jaw, moving down her neck, over another scar left by the explosion, across her collarbone, down her sternum. A scar I hadn’t seen before, in an uneven line down the centre of her chest, still raised and hard despite the time since the surgery. She noticed I had stopped and took a deep breath. 

“It’s a strange feeling,” she joked, her fingers lifting to gently stroke through my hair. “Looking in the mirror every morning and being reminded that Ollie Valentine’s had your heart in his hands. And he didn’t even buy me dinner first!” She chuckled nervously. 

“Is it sore?” I asked tentatively, refraining from brushing my lips over it just yet. The scar looked as if it had turned keloid, and the last thing I wanted to do was hurt her. 

“It’s sensitive,” she answered slowly, winding a strand of my hair around her finger. “But I wouldn’t quite call it sore.” She shuddered. “I hate it.” Her voice had tightened slightly, her hand stilling, and I swallowed hard, placing an ever so light kiss at the point where the tissue started to raise. She trembled beneath my lips as I spoke.

“It’s beautiful,” I whispered, my eyes stinging. _“You’re_ beautiful.” I ran a hand up her side, feeling the smooth skin, interrupted by the occasional scar or mole. “More beautiful that I can comprehend. You always were.” I heard her let out a ragged breath, and reached to interlink my fingers with hers, her other still resting in my hair. Giving her hand a reassuring squeeze, I placed another feather-light kiss in the centre of the scar, right over her heart, before turning my head to take a nipple in my mouth, grinning to myself as I heard her gasp and arch into me. 

“Serena…” She moaned as I untangled my hand from hers, trailing my fingertips across the front of her jeans and causing her to buck her hips. I moved to her other nipple, humming and murmuring how good she felt in my mouth, my fingers pressing more insistently at her centre as her hand tightened in my hair and her breaths became more shallow. 

“God…Serena…” I grazed my teeth over her nipple, sucking hard as I fumbled with the button on her jeans. She writhed beneath me, twisting her body and as my eyes flitted open I spotted something on her side, my breath leaving me as I stopped my movements, gently turning her as my hand ran smooth across the skin of her ribs. 

“You kept it,” I whispered, fingering the emblem etched into her skin, the small ’S’ below it. It was much more faded now, as mine was, and one of the edges broken by another shrapnel scar. I felt her sigh, her hand moving to cup my cheek.

“Of course I did,” she replied, brushing my lip with the pad of her thumb. “Of course.” She tilted my chin so that I was looking her in the eye, her wide pupils glinting in the streetlight that spilled through the window. “I have never wanted to forget you, Serena, not ever. Get over you, yes, but never forget.” Her voice dropped to a whisper on the last word, and suddenly we were wearing too many clothes. I needed to feel her, all of her, feel her warmth beneath me, feel that she was alive and breathing and _here,_ needed that comfort, that reassurance. She lifted her hips with a soft sigh as I tugged her jeans down her long legs, followed quickly by her underwear before swiftly removing my own, both of us completely bare in the dim moonlight. 

Placing one knee between hers, I steadily lowered myself down, both of us letting out a shaky breath as we felt our hot arousal against one another’s thighs. I stayed still for a moment, my lips finding hers once more, kissing her softly and tenderly, savouring her, before beginning to roll my hips, grinding my thigh against her wet centre. 

She whimpered against my mouth, matching each buck of my hips, one hand tight on my arse, moving me against her. I reached between us, moaning as my fingers found her dripping wet and open for me. I curved two fingers inside her, leaning back to watch her face as her breath caught in her throat and her back arched. 

“So beautiful,” I murmured, leaning back down to place a gentle kiss to the corner of her mouth, along her jawline until my lips brushed her ear. 

“I’ve missed you so much,” I breathed. She let out an uneven sigh, looking at me tearfully as my hand continued to move between us. 

“I’ve missed you too,” she repeated, trembling fingers coming up to rest on my cheek. For a few moments the world seemed to stop as we gazed at one another, eyes watery, lips twisted into a relived smile. The burst of love that I felt deep in my stomach was so strong that it was almost nauseating. I leant down again, brushing my lips over hers before pumping my fingers harder in and out of her. She groaned, her chest heaving and hips bucking into my touch. Her hand left my cheek, her fingers dragging a shaky line down my body until they met my throbbing arousal. 

“Bernie” was all I could moan as she circled my clit, spreading my wetness until I was slick all over. I rocked my hips against her hand, gasping as she pushed a delicate finger into me, then two.

“I want us to come at the same time,” she murmured, hooking her fingers round and making my whole body tremble. She always was so good at that. 

It doesn’t take long until we are both lost, Bernie panting and shivering beneath me, her legs spread wide as I fuck her whilst riding her fingers, my head thrown back in ecstacy. Neither of us can speak, just gasp and moan and whimper and sob as we build each other up, feel ourselves bleeding into one, exposed and wanton and so completely, rawly human, shameless and free and alive. 

“God… Serena, I… are you…?” Her words were incoherent, but I knew what she meant. I rocked my hips faster, my fingers thrusting hard her as I felt her begin to contract, felt my own orgasm building too, more and more until I was ready to explode. 

And then she came, hard and with a gush that coated my entire hand and the sensation of it, the sound of her breath hitching and her moans reaching fever pitch was all I needed to push me over the edge too, hips bucking blindly and voice hoarse as I gasped her name over and over. 

“Bernie,” I whispered eventually, breathless, having flopped down beside her, our legs intertwined, our arms wrapped around one another so tight it was barely comfortable. “Bernie…” I wanted to say something else, but words failed me. All I could think about was her, here in my arms, sticky with the aftermath of her orgasm and kissing my neck, my hairline, my cheeks, my lips. Everything felt so right, so perfect, as if the world had been set to rights, and everything had finally fallen into place… 

:: 

I woke up the following morning with a smile, last night’s events flashing through my mind, my heart skipping as I felt her warm skin beneath my fingertips as she slept beside me. She had always been a heavier sleeper than I, and I took a moment to simply gaze at her, my fingers ghosting over her cheek as I did so. She always looked so different when she slept. When she was awake, she always had some element of trouble on her features, as though she were constantly trying to solve a very intricate puzzle, but whilst she slept, everything just melted away. All the lines, the troubles, the strain, all left, and she just looked so… 

Youthful. She looked youthful, angelic, innocent. Like she hadn’t aged a day…

And for some reason then my stomach dropped. I gazed at her sleeping form and I didn’t see Bernie Wolfe, trauma surgeon, mother, ex army medic. No, I saw Berenice Wolfe, rugby captain, straight-A student, the love of my life. Were they two different people? How would I know? We hadn’t talked about anything, hadn’t worked through our problems, hadn’t allowed one another to process what had happened, we had just… dived in, just as we had that very first night we had kissed around the back of the nightclub. No reservations, no planning, no consideration, just… 

_This isn’t how it’s supposed to be._

My elation at having her back was quickly replaced with horror as I feel it, feel history repeating itself. I didn’t want to be like that, didn’t want _us_ to be like that. I wanted us to be _better_ , to work through all that had happened and come out of it stronger. And now… could we do that? Have we moved too fast for that?

I panicked. 

Guilt churning in the pit of my stomach and tears stinging in my eyes, I hastily disentangled myself from her, threw on my clothes, and left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (don't hate me plz)
> 
> Let me know what you thought!


	16. If You're Looking For A Way Out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the shortest chapter everrrr but I'm certain the next one (the end!!!) will be a mammoth. 
> 
> Thank you all so so so so sooo much for all your feedback on the last chapter! Some of it made me quite tearful you've been so kind! Please do keep it coming! 
> 
> The song for this chapter was actually recommended to be my the lovely scullysaliens on tumblr! (go follow she's lovely) 
> 
> Again apologies for it being so short and enjoy reading!

_ Missing Track: If You're Looking For A Way Out - Odyssey  _

_ Missing Track: I Second That Emotion - Japan _

* * *

I wasn’t even at the bottom of the lift before I was filled with regret. But I couldn’t go back. She could be awake now and… what could I say?

I knew what I could say. I could say that I had made a mistake, that I had been scared and that there were things we needed to discuss, but ultimately: I love her. 

But I didn’t do that. 

I went home, I crawled into bed, pulled the covers high over my head, and cried until I fell asleep.

::

There are not many times in my life that I have considered pulling a sickie - not seriously, anyway. But today… God, I hate myself. 

I pulled a face in the mirror, surveying the dark circles beneath my bloodshot eyes. _I look ill enough to warrant a day off_ , I reasoned. I wasn't, though. My only affliction was guilt, and that was entirely of my own doing. Taking the day off would be the coward’s way out. I deserved to face the consequences of my actions. 

My eyes fell on my phone, laying ominously on the bathroom counter. I never received a single text message or phone call from her all day yesterday - hardly surprising, really - so there was no chance she had thought I had simply needed to get back for Jason or anything along those lines. No, she knew what I had done. Did she hate me? What could I say to her? How could I possibly face her? 

“Auntie Serena! We’re going to be late!”

“I’ll just be a moment!” 

I took a breath. It'll be fine. I'll explain, apologise. Tell her I freaked out. Grovel like a bad puppy. She'll understand it was just a momentary lapse of judgement, she has to. 

"Auntie Serena!"

I quickly applied some lipstick, then rushed off to work. 

::

Work was quiet, for a Monday. The whole place seemed... subdued, like the calm after the storm. I suppose it was, really. All that pent up emotion, frustration, tension, all built up to Saturday night, and now... what, exactly?

I forced a light smile onto my features as I approached the office, ready to face her, to apologise, but she wasn't there. Her coat was hanged up, a half-eaten sandwich discarded on her desk and empty cup of coffee knocked onto the floor. A wave of fondness washed over me. She never changed. 

My thoughts wandered back to Saturday night, how young she had looked as she slept, as if she hadn't aged a day since 1983. I loved her then, and that was the vision of her that I had remained in love with for the past thirty years. My worry was that I was being naïve about the whole thing. She could never be the same person, not really. She _wasn't_ the same person. They had some similar traits, I knew, but Bernie Wolfe had been through a multitude of experiences since then - good and bad - and those things change people. I knew that _I_ had changed, since we first met. And what if the modern-day Bernie Wolfe was not the woman I loved? How could I be sure? 

I knew, really, that I could never be sure. The thing I had to decide was: could I take the risk? And that’s what it came down to, at the end of the day. I was a coward. I would rather suffer this misery than ever again feel pain like I had when she had left before. _Coward_. 

I shrugged off my coat, sitting down heavily at my desk and looking up my theatre schedule on the computer. I had an aortic valve reconstruction in the morning, followed by two endovascular aneurysm repairs in the afternoon. A heavy day, to say the least. I wondered if I would in fact see her at all today. 

As if in answer to my thoughts, she came rushing into the office, the door opening with a clatter as she nudged it with her shoulder, stack of files balanced in one arm. She froze for a microsecond as she saw me, before quickly recovering herself, continuing to discard the files on her desk with a thud. 

“Morning,” she murmured, avoiding eye contact. She tapped into her computer, picking up her half-eaten sandwich with her free hand and taking a small bite.

“Morning,” I repeated, my voice low with guilt and nerves. My heart was in my throat. I eyed her carefully, watching for any sign that she was angry, that she cared in the slightest what was happening between us. Her face was blank, her lips drawn into a thin line and her forehead creased as she scanned some unknown email. She seemed indifferent, but closer inspection told me otherwise. Her eyes looked heavy, and I could see that she had tried to dab some concealer under her eyes to cover the dark circles still apparent there. And when she took a breath, it trembled slightly as she inhaled, as though she had been recently crying. My stomach jolted. 

“Bernie,” I began. Her eyes never left the screen. She instead began typing furiously, as if to drown out my presence with the noise of her fingers punching at the keys. 

“Bernie.” I tried again, louder this time. She continued typing for a couple of seconds, before seemingly thinking better of it and taking a deep breath. 

“Yes, Ms Campbell?” Her head nodded vaguely in my direction, but her eyes never left the screen. I winced. This was worse than I thought. 

“Bernie, please,” I leaned forward, my hand automatically reaching out, hovering in the air aimlessly before falling to the desk in resignation. “We… we need to talk about this.” 

“What is there to talk about?” She replied, her voice tense, strained. “We made a mistake. It wasn’t the first time; it won’t be the last. Now, we just need to move on.”

“No, Bernie, it wasn’t a mistake,” I pleaded, my arm reaching out again. “I didn’t—“

“What was it then?” She looked at me now, and I could see the pink tinge to the whites of her eyes that confirmed that yes, she had been crying, or at the very least had lost a significant amount of sleep to this. Guilt clawed at my chest. 

“I…” I faltered, unsure what to say. “I don’t know what it was. I just… I panicked? I didn’t know what I was…” I trailed off, lost for words. She stared at me for a while, until her shoulders softened slightly. She looked down at her hands, shaking her head. 

“You really hurt me, Serena.” She looked up slowly, her eyes wide. I sighed, emotion tightening the back of my throat. 

“I guess we can call it even then,” I joked. 

Wrong answer. 

Her shoulders tensed back up, her jaw set. She looked as though I had just slapped her. 

“So that’s what this was about.” It wasn’t a question. 

I gaped, my throat dry, trying to think of something I could say to resolve this. No words came. 

Her face went blank, expressionless, emotionless. She stood calmly, without a word picking up the files she had brought in to type up. 

“Bernie, wait—“ 

The door slammed shut behind her. 

::

I was in theatre for more or less the remainder of the day. My aortic valve reconstruction ended up having a complication that took me well over my next surgery’s scheduled start time, so as soon as I was finished I was straight in with that, and then my next surgery later that afternoon. I saw her once or twice, and when I did she was… amiable, as she would be with any doctor in the hospital whom she was required to interact with. She acted as though we were strangers, as though there were nothing between us at all. I think that hurt more than if she had hated me. 

By the end of the day, I was on the verge of tears. _What have I done?_ My stomach felt cold, my heart aching as I recalled how wonderful I had felt on Saturday night, as if the world had been set to rights, only for my stupid insecurities to go and ruin everything the following morning. I closed my eyes, visions of her laid out beneath me flashing through my brain. _Beautiful._ I remembered mapping every inch of her, exploring her body with my mouth and my fingertips, remember the words leaving my mouth, _you’re beautiful._ I remembered the vulnerability in her eyes. She had let down her guard completely for me, and I had thrown that back in her face. _I hate it_. How many people had she admitted that to? How many people _could_ she have admitted that to? She had let herself go, given herself entirely to me as though not a day had passed since she had left in 1983, as though we were as we always were. How could I have been so cruel? 

I jumped slightly as the office door clicked open. She hesitated slightly in the doorway and for a moment I expected her to leave again, but eventually she stepped inside, closing the door softly behind her and, to my surprise, sitting down in the guest chair next to me. I tensed, watching as her fists clenched and unclenched. Was she going to hit me? I wouldn’t blame her.

“Look, I…” She began, her eyes on the floor. I held my tongue, sensing she had something she needed to say. She cleared her throat. “It’s a mess, all of this.” She gestured around her. I nodded. “And I, er… I don’t think…” I frowned and she sighed, collecting herself, before continuing. “I’ve been to see Hanssen.” 

“What?” I asked, confused. Surely there weren’t any disciplinary issues here?

She waved a hand to calm me. “He agrees that, particularly with the current rumour situation, that it might be a good idea for me to take a step back for a while, allow things to calm down a little.” I made to speak, but was quickly silenced. “So we’ve agreed on an immediate transfer, for me, to ED.” I gaped and she shook her head quickly. “It’s only temporary. Six weeks helping them break in some new trauma equipment. I think we just need some…” She sighed, looking around for the right phrase. “Some breathing space. We both need some time away from one another to figure out what it is that we really want and are really feeling.” 

“But I know—“

“No, Serena,” she interrupted tiredly. “You don’t know. If you knew what you _really_ wanted then you would never have done… whatever it was you intended to do on Saturday night.” She blinked hard, coughing slightly. “I know that I’m sorry for what I did, I know that I would give anything in the world to go back and change it, and I know that I’m in love with you. Now. I’m not in love with Serena McKinnie, not anymore. I’m in love with Serena Campbell.” She met my eye. “I love you, Serena. And despite everything that you’ve done… I still want you. But you need to be sure. I don’t know how I could cope with losing you again…” She trailed off, looking back down at her feet. “And we _are_ different people now. Saturday night was fun, yes, but I don’t want to go back to that. As much as it pains me to say it, it’s just not our scene any more, I think you can agree by the music.” She chuckled awkwardly. “And… I don’t just want a Saturday night with you, Serena. I want to share my life with you. I wanted to share my life with you back then, right enough, but circumstances wouldn’t allow. But now, _we can_. We don’t _need_ to hide. But you have to know what you want.” 

She looked up at me sadly, and in a way that let me know that she had made her mind up. She was going, and that was that. I decided the best way through this was to talk honestly. 

“But how do you know,” I began, staring at my hands in my lap. “How do you know that you’re in love with _me_ , now, and not some past vision of me, of me as I was before you left? How can you know?” 

She sighed heavily, running a hand through her hair. “I just… do. I think back to us before and I feel fondness and nostalgia, yes, but…” She stared at me penetratingly, her face deadly serious. “It’s thinking of you _now_ , Serena Campbell, Queen of AAU; that’s who really gives me butterflies.”

My mouth fell open slightly, the air suddenly gone from my lungs at the magnitude of her words. She really loves me. How? It struck me then that perhaps part of my hesitance was due to the fact that I struggled to believe that she - or anyone, really - could possibly have any strong feelings towards me, could regard me as worthy of her affections. But now I saw it clear, pure and unadulterated in her eyes as she spoke. I felt like such a fool. I had wasted so much time, had ruined everything. And now she was leaving me. 

“I’ve got another post-op to finish,” she announced after a long pause when I hadn’t spoke. “I’d better get on. I’ll see you round, maybe. If not, in six weeks.” She offered a small smile, turning to the door. 

“Bernie,” I called out, my tone serious, my eyes watery. She turned. “Please, don’t.” The feebleness of my voice surprised even me, and I felt almost embarrassed for being so weak. I cleared my throat.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured, her fingers toying with the door handle. “But this is how it has to be. I need some space, we both do.” 

I swallowed thickly, willing myself not to cry. “Just… keep in touch, okay?” I risked a glance up at her, and saw her smiling slightly. 

“Of course,” she replied softly. “Just give me time.”

And with that she was gone.


	17. I Knew You Were Waiting (For Me)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is it, the end of the story! I will be doing an epilogue at some point in the near future, but I'm so busy the next couple of weeks it might be a while. 
> 
> Thank you all so, so, so, so, sooooo much for all your wonderful feedback throughout the entire story - it definitely wouldn't have been finished without you! I've enjoyed writing this story so much, I'm kinda sad to end it, but here goes! - Let me know your final thoughts!!
> 
> I promised a mammoth, and here it is: 7,836 words.
> 
> Enjoy!

_ Missing Track: School's Out - Alice Cooper _

_ Missing Track: Summer of 69 - Bryan Adams _

_ Missing Track: I Knew You Were Waiting (For Me) - George Michael & Aretha Franklin _

* * *

For the first couple of weeks, I was horrible. Every mention of her name went through me like nails on a chalkboard, leading me to snap and lash out at my colleagues. They knew what was wrong, really, especially after the rumours and everything, but I was adamant that I didn't care. She had left me, again, and that was that. The end. 

But it wasn't really, and I knew it. I just needed to see past my own melodrama, which was easier said than done, honestly. I had dug myself into a hole of self-pity and anger. Why was she doing this? Even though I knew exactly why, and knew that it was for all the right reasons, I just couldn't stop myself resenting her for it. 

Then one night, just over two weeks after she left, there came a heavy knock on my office door. 

"Come in!"

Raf poked his head around the door, before striding inside pointedly. I craned my neck and saw Morven and Fletch stood behind him, all dressed in their civvies and grinning nervously. 

"Get your coat," Raf announced, nodding towards where it hung on the rack. "You're coming to Albies." 

I sighed heavily, shaking my head. "Sorry, I can't tonight. I've got a mountain of paperwork and I've got to get back for Jason—" 

"Evie's gone round for Jason. She'll get his fish and chips with him. And the paperwork can wait." He raised his eyebrows at me, and I knew I was trapped. I sighed again, rolling my eyes. 

"I'll come for one, and one only," I promised, standing to get my coat. They cast one another a conspiring glance and I winced. I almost definitely would not be staying for just one. 

“Come on then, spit it out,” I said after we had sat down at our table. They had been muttering to one another the whole way here; I could tell they were up to something. Morven and Fletch both turned to look at Raf. He sat up a bit taller. 

“We’re staging an intervention,” he told, glancing at the others for back up. 

“A what?” 

“You’ve been really grumpy lately,” Morven said sympathetically, after a sip of wine. 

“Yeah, even Hanssen’s scared of you at the moment!” Fletch joked. I raised my eyebrows, looking back to Raf.

“I’m just stressed out getting to grips with all this new trauma unit business—“

“Without Bernie to help,” he interjected. My eyes widened.

“This has got nothing to do with _her_ ,” I insisted, taking a rather large gulp of my wine. “Not that she’s done us any favours buggering off to ED right after opening—“ 

“Look, we’re sorry, Serena,” Fletch interrupted. I stopped, frowning. “If we had known that the rumours would cause… it was an insensitive thing to do, and I’m very sorry.”

I looked around to see the regret in all of their eyes. They really thought… 

I sighed heavily. “Don’t be sorry,” I murmured, staring down into my wine glass. “It wasn’t because of that. Not that spreading rumours about someone’s sexuality is in any way acceptable to do.”

“I know, I wasn’t thinking of that,” Fletch admitted. 

“Yes, I know you don’t discriminate when there’s gossip to be had.” I gave him a fond smile, before running a hand over my face. “Oh, this is all such a mess,” I groaned. 

"So... what happened?" Raf asked, after a pause. I opened my mouth to deny there was anything going on between us at all, at the very least to deny that I cared either way, but seeing the concerned looks on their faces... I caved. 

"Well, the rumours were true," I began. "Bernie and I were lovers, once upon a time." 

Fletch grinned victoriously. "I always knew you—" He groaned as Morven kicked him under the table. I shot her a proud smirk. 

"Anyway, when we both went off to university, I never heard from her again until she arrived back here in February. We ignored it, carried on as though we were just meeting for the first time but... old feelings resurfaced, for both of us, I think. We agreed to talk, that plan went a bit pear shaped, I got her to meet me in a bar, we spent the night together, I left before she woke up, she hates me, end of." I drained the rest of my glass. 

The team seemed to be speechless for a few moments. 

"But Ms Wolfe is coming back, isn't she?" Morven asked, her brow furrowed. 

I hesitated. "Yes, she is," I replied, fiddling with my necklace. "But that doesn't change the fact that she's left. _Again_. I just feel so..." I searched for the word. "Disposable? If she really cared, surely she wouldn't find it so easy to keep dropping me like this?" 

"Well, by the sounds of it you've done just as much of that," Fletch inputted. "I mean, leaving someone before they wake up, that's the biggest sign of not giving a toss there is." 

"Did you ask her why she left?" Raf said, as if he were unsure whether to ask. I bit my lip. 

"Her parents found out about our relationship," I divulged. "They were very homophobic, threatened her army career if she were to have any more contact with me. So she chose that instead." I sighed, toying with the stem of my now empty glass and praying that someone would suggest getting another round in soon. 

"And you're still angry at her for that? Can you honestly say you'd have done any differently?" He looked at me in a way that told me he knew he was right on this one. I looked away, feeling tears stinging in my eyes and suddenly realising just how pathetic I had been about the whole thing. How could I keep a grudge this long, knowing what she had been through? Why couldn't I let go? 

"I just..." I shook my head, sitting up straighter. "It doesn't matter now anyway, she doesn't want anything to do with me and that's that. I've buggered up the whole thing and I'm just going to have to accept it." 

"But she's coming back," Morven reasoned. "Hanssen offered her a job abroad only last week. Surely if she really wanted to get away from you she'd have taken that instead, or some more permanent position." She nodded at me reassuringly, and I paused for a moment, contemplating my next words. 

"She told me she loved me," I murmured, my fingers drumming on the edge of the table. "She said she wanted me, but I have to be sure. And then I tried to tell her I was sure, but she wouldn't believe me." 

They were silent for a beat, until suddenly, to my surprise, all three burst into laughter. 

"This isn't funny!" 

"You are the most ridiculous woman, you know that?" Raf shook his head fondly, lifting his pint. "I thought my ex was bad!" 

"And I thought Evie was stubborn!" 

"I'm not being stubborn!" I argued incredulously. "I don't think you're getting just how serious this is. I've chased away the love of my life and all you lot can do is laugh about it!"

"Say that again," Raf said, grinning. 

I frowned. "I don't think you're getting—"

"No, the last bit." His eyes glittered. 

I stopped, sinking down in my chair. _The love of my life_. I looked around at them helplessly. 

"I really have made the most ridiculous mess of all this," I muttered, squeezing my eyes shut. 

"But you can fix it," Raf reassured enthusiastically. "She wants you, you just have to step up and stop acting like a sulky toddler. You need to stop bearing these grudges and fight for her. Life's too short. Think of all the time you've wasted!"

"And let's face it, you're not getting any younger," Fletch added unhelpfully. 

"Raf's right," Morven murmured, her voice thickening. "Life's too short, and you'll never get that time back. You never know how long you've got." She blinked quickly, and I reached out to cover her hand with mine. 

I took a deep breath, their positivity making me suddenly feel a little lighter. "You know what," I announced, a faint smile creeping onto my lips. "I think you're right. Life’s too short to be this… I don't want to take my time for granted," I said to Morven, giving her hand a squeeze. She smiled at me thankfully. 

"In that case, I think it's your round," Raf smirked, and I rolled my eyes. Giving Morven's hand one final pat, I stood, and it was at the bar that I realised that Bernie's decision to leave was exactly what we both needed. Over the next four weeks, I would allow myself time to work through my feelings, to let go of my grudges and put all that woe behind me, and when she returned, I would fight. I would do everything I could to prove to her that I was ready, that I loved her and that I forgave her. Would spend each day of the rest of my life doing so if needed. Anything, for her. 

_The love of my life._

:: 

Over the following two weeks, I worked hard at letting go of any bitterness I still held towards Bernie Wolfe. I went through old diaries, listened again to our mixtape, set aside time each day to work on my issues. I even invested in a therapy session, to talk about how I was feeling and get everything straight in my head. Something had shifted in me, prompted by the team’s little pep talk. I knew that I needed to get my act together, that I was going to lose her forever if I kept up my childish antics. And I _wanted_ to change, wanted to make the effort to do so - something which I had not felt before. Before, I had thought she was the one that needed to change; now, I realise that it’s both of us who need to be different. I stopped putting blame entirely on her, and I think that was the biggest step. 

I still did not contact her, though. As she had been the one to sever ties, I assumed that it would be on her terms that we should get back in touch. Fletch said that he had bumped into her on a trip down to A&E for a patient handover and that she had asked after me, asked how I was. He said I should text her, but I couldn’t quite bring myself to do that. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to talk to her, or that I was angry at her; I had managed to work past a lot of that now. On the contrary, I was worried that she might be the one bearing the ill-feeling now. The more I thought about it, the more I realised just how pig-headed I had been, how cruel my behaviour was. The guilt was crippling; it made me want to run again. My I was beginning to think more rationally now. If I ran now, that would be the end for good. And I couldn’t let that happen. So, patiently, I waited.

But then, sixteen days before she was due to return - not that I was counting - tragedy struck.

_:27th August 2016:_

It was unusual that I should be at work on a Saturday. Usually senior consultants such as myself only work regular office hours, Monday to Friday. However, with Bernie away, the trauma unit wasn’t going to run itself. 

I was just in a handover meeting when I heard it, the almighty crash that shook the entire hospital. 

“What on earth?” 

We all looked around at one another worriedly, one social worker standing to look out of the window. 

“Can’t see anything. Maybe just a car backfired?” He shrugged, coming and sitting back down. 

“Car back fired? It’d have to be a bloody rocket launcher to make a noise like that!” One junior doctor said, her eyebrows knitted together. I shook my head, unsure of what to think, but went back to reading out my patient’s obs. 

Right on cue, every single pager in the room bleeped urgently. I glanced at mine.

**AAU. Multiple traumas. ETA 10 mins.**

“I’ve got to get back to my department,” about four people said in unison. The atmosphere had thickened in the room, electric anticipation in the air and stomachs twisting as we all realised that something terrible must have happened. My heart was racing as I stood, grabbing my jacket but not bothering to put it on as we all rushed off. I was just about to get into the lift as my phone rang. 

_Henrik Hanssen is calling…_

“Henrik? What’s going on?” 

He cleared his throat hurriedly. Henrik Hanssen _never_ hurried his speech. My stomach dropped. 

“There’s been a terrible accident. A helicopter appears to have crashed into the ED and many people are trapped and injured. I don’t have the full details yet but…” I didn’t hear the rest of his words. My entire body went cold. ED. _Bernie._

I felt bile rising in my throat and leant a hand against the wall, my chest heaving. 

“… I’ll let you know when I have any more details. I’d better get on.” 

“Yes,” was all I could choke out. I heard the line go dead and quickly scrolled through my contacts. I hovered for a couple of moments, feeling silly, then decided to text instead. 

_Where are you? S._

_Are you okay? S._

_Call me when you get this. S._

I steadied myself, putting my phone back in my pocket and pressing the button for the lift. _Focus_. But then I heard sirens in the distance - a sign that personnel were being called in from other hospitals and that our emergency department must be severely damaged, and my hand dived back in my pocket and was hitting dial before I had time to second guess my actions. 

The line connected and I held my breath, listening to the rings and tapping my foot nervously. 

"Hel—"

"Bernie, are you okay? Where are you? Are you alright?" My speech was rapid, barely coherent, and I heard her frown.

"Yeah, I'm fine, Serena. Wha—“

“Where are you?” I panted.

She chuckled awkwardly. “I’m in Tesco,” she told me, a smile in her voice. “In the chocolate aisle, to be precise. What’s up?” 

I let out a deep, trembling breath, my hand flying to my chest and my eyes welling up in relief. “Oh thank god,” I murmured shakily, trying to compose myself. “I thought…” 

“Serena, what’s wrong? Are you okay?” She asked urgently, her tone deepening slightly in a way that told me she was going into army mode. 

“No, no, I’m fine,” I reassured quickly, and heard her let out a little breath. “Well, I’m not… There’s been an accident at the ED. Apparently a helicopter has crashed and there are people trapped and more injured. It’s all systems go here; I expect you’ll be receiving a call for overtime any minute.” 

She gasped. “Oh god, is everyone alright?” 

“I don’t know yet, it’s only just happened less than ten minutes ago. It’s all hands on deck here. I just needed to know that you’re safe.” And that was the moment I knew: everything was forgotten. _I forgave her._

“Thank you,” she murmured softly. We were both silent for a couple of moments, neither wanting this connection to end. 

“So, uh, how’ve you been?” She asked. I allowed myself to relax slightly.

“Okay. Good. Better," I replied, the colour returning to my cheeks slightly as I recovered. "Yourself?" 

She barked out a laugh. "Well, I think the fact that I'm in the chocolate aisle says it all really." I chuckled. 

"Toffee crisp?"

"You know me so well."

"You never change." I smiled fondly, allowing my eyes to flutter closed as I savoured the sound of her voice. "ED not suiting you then?" 

"It's not that," she sighed heavily, and I heard a rustle as she put something else into her trolley. "The adrenaline is great, it's just... I think I'm a bit homesick for AAU. I miss my trauma unit." She laughed. 

"It's missing you," I replied, feeling myself relaxed now. "We all are." 

I heard her take a breath. "Yeah," she murmured, at length. "I missing you too." She coughed. "I mean, Connie Beauchamp is nice enough and all but there's only one co-lead for me." She laughed awkwardly. 

I paused, before realising she was talking about me. "You know," I started hesitantly, biting my lip. "If you wanted, you could maybe drop me a text from time to time? I understand if you're too busy—"

"No," she interrupted. "No, I'd like that." 

"Good," I said softly. Neither of us spoke for a few moments, both contemplating our words, not really wanting this conversation to end. 

Unfortunately, my pager bleeped again in my pocket, breaking me out of my thoughts. **AAU. Crush trauma. ETA 4 mins.**

"I'd better get on," I sighed, pressing the button for the lift. 

"Yes, I'd better too. Finish this shopping before I get called in. Though I might turn up anyway, lend a hand," she said, and I felt a rush of love at her gallantry. 

"Well, stay safe. I'd say you've got about twenty minutes ’til they call, max."

"I'd better get a move on, then. Got to get home before my choc-ices melt." 

"Christ, you must be stressed," I joked, watching the numbers above the lift as it neared my floor. "I'll speak to you later." 

"Yes, I'll text you." I heard her nod. We paused for a couple of moments. 

"Bye," we both said simultaneously. We laughed. 

"Bye." 

I ended the called, stepping into the lift and somehow feeling a little lighter, despite the knowledge of the bunfight waiting for me downstairs. We were speaking again, finally. And this time it felt... different. Less tense, now we were both on the same page. It felt fantastic. 

The lift doors opened, and I stepped out, brighter, and ready to face the wreckage. 

::

It was three days before she made contact. I had begun to lose hope slightly, wondering if I had imagined the new warmth in our conversation on the phone. But, half an hour after I arrived home the following Tuesday, I received a text. 

_Sorry haven't texted before - it's been bedlam here!! Beauchamp's daughter is in ITU - not looking good. I've not sat still since Saturday night! How's your end? B_

I wave of relief washed over me at her friendly tone. We were being amicable, genuinely, with no passive-aggression, for the first time in thirty-three years. And it felt fantastic. 

_Oh that's awful! Pass on my sympathies. We've got Steph Sims! Under lock and key, I might add. We've been non-stop too. Hope you manage to get some rest soon. S_

I contemplated adding a kiss, but thought better of it, replacing my phone in my pocket and continuing making lasagna for Jason and I. We were sat down to eat before I noticed her reply. 

_You too. Was nice talking to you the other day. B x_

My heart fluttered, and I felt slightly choked up. It was such a relief, knowing that we were on the same page, that she wasn’t angry at me, that we were beginning to work things through. I knew that we still needed to have a proper conversation about what had gone on and where we go from here, but for now it was just nice to have her company back. 

We texted almost every day, after that. Sometimes little things, like a particularly interesting patient, bits of gossip we’d heard around, updates on Jason or Bernie’s latest contact with Cameron. Other times, there would be big long rants; Bernie really did not get on with Dr Knight in the slightest. Once or twice, we stayed up until the early hours, texting back and forth, chatting away about anything and everything. I’d forgotten quite how much she could make me laugh, so much so that on a couple of occasions I found myself with my hand clasped tight over my mouth, desperately trying to quieten myself so as not to wake Jason and usually failing. We still avoided the topic of us, but it was a different kind of avoidance this time. It wasn’t that we didn’t want to talk or were uncomfortable with it, we just both understood that it shouldn’t happen over text. We needed to do it face to face. 

If I was ever in any doubt that I loved her, or that I had forgiven her entirely for what had happened, this evaporated almost the second I received that first text. After that, the following messages we shared only served to further cement in my mind that this was what I wanted. I wanted _her_. It felt so natural, so right. I remember, one afternoon when I had been feeling particularly stressed, the only thing that managed to put a smile on my face was a quick text from her, and I just thought _this is how it’s meant to be._ Finally, things seemed to be sliding into place.

I was happier than I had been in months, an extra spring in my step and a spark in my eyes, so much so that, even though I was missing her and counting down the days to her return, the time flew by. Before I knew it, it was Sunday night, and I was texting her good luck for the morning. 

_I can’t believe how quickly this has come! Not that I haven’t been missing you ;) Got a meeting with Hanssen first thing but maybe see you for lunch? B x_

_Sounds wonderful :) I really have missed you a lot you know, can’t wait to see you. S x_

_Me too. Sleep well. B x_

_Goodnight. S x_

:: 

I barely slept that night. Butterflies fluttered in my stomach like a swarm of angry bees, and by the time my alarm was set to go off I was already out of bed, desperately attempting to cover the dark circles below my eyes. As I put on my mascara, I noticed that I was trembling, and took a deep breath. _You’re being silly_ , I told myself. _There’s no reason to be nervous, you’re on good speaking terms now._ My racing heart didn’t quite seem to get the message, though. 

The drive in was tense. I couldn’t even bring myself to put the radio on, instead allowing my mind to run wild with thoughts of how the day would pan out. What would she say? How would the others react to her? Had her hair changed? Would we be as close in person as we were over text? Would she kiss me? 

Would I kiss her?

Stopped at a traffic light, I allowed my eyelids to flutter closed, imagining how it would happen. In our office? On the roof? On the bench outside? My tongue darted out to wet my lips, and I startled myself with the little groan that rumbled in my throat. I longed for her so badly, it often took me by surprise. But I realised there were things that needed to be discussed and sorted out properly first, this time, so resolved to make sure that that happened, before anything else. 

On my arrival, I wasn’t surprised to see our office already twice as messy as it had been for the previous six weeks, despite the fact she probably only came in to drop off her bag and coat. There was an empty coffee cup lying knocked over on her desk, a screwed up sandwich wrapper, and her coat had fallen off the hook and onto the floor. I sighed fondly, stepping over to hang it back up and to put her rubbish in the bin. I'd sat down at my desk before I noticed the little white paper bag on my keyboard, Bernie's messy handwriting scrawled on it. 

_It's good to be back - I've missed you! B x_

I grinned, opening the bag to find inside a fresh pain au chocolat from Pulses. I tucked in as I read through my morning emails, before going out onto the ward. 

And there she was, right in front of me, at the nurses' station being welcomed back by the other members of staff. I froze for a moment, collecting myself, clearing my throat, taking a deep breath. 

"Ms Wolfe! We've missed you so much!" Morven bounced up to her as I neared, enveloping her in a tight hug, seemingly starting a trend as Fletch and Raf both greeted her with an embrace too. I smirked to myself, knowing how uncomfortable she found those sorts of greetings and imagining her face as she suffered it, before stepping over to greet her myself. 

"Hello stranger." I fought to keep a telling smile from my face, but when she turned and I saw she was grinning too, I couldn't help but return the sentiment. Then, to my surprise, I found that her arms were around me, pulling me into a hug and murmuring in my ear a quick 'good to see you’. Over her shoulder, I saw the rest of the team winking and making thumbs up signs to one another, and couldn’t bring myself to shoot them a disapproving glare. 

“It’s about time too,” I said playfully as she pulled away. “We can’t have ED poaching our finest, can we?” 

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” she smirked, shaking her head, her cheeks rosy. “AAU’s where I belong.” She met my eye with a wink. “Where I’m staying.” 

I beamed at her, opening my mouth to speak but finding myself suddenly interrupted by the shrill ringing of the red phone. She gave my arm a squeeze before rushing off to answer it, and I got back to my patients. 

The week that followed must have been one of the busiest in AAU’s history. We didn’t manage to grab lunch together; Bernie was stuck in a complex exploratory laparotomy which ended up having complications that took her well into the afternoon, and by the time she was out I was tied up with an emergency aortic valve repair and wasn’t finished until well after both our shifts ended. 

_Sorry I missed you - didn’t know how long you’d be! See you tomorrow. B x_

I smiled at my phone, tapping out a quick reply and willing myself to get the energy to stand up out of my chair and go home. 

On Tuesday we managed to coordinate our arrivals so that we could walk in together, but were quickly swept off our feet for the rest of the day again dealing with traumas from a five car pile-up that had happened overnight. As the ED was so badly damaged still, we were getting a lot more trauma patients than usual, meaning we didn’t have the staffing levels to take patients together as we often used to, so I didn’t even see her whilst we were working. By the time we were finishing up in the evening, both of us were too tired to do anything other than promise to talk the next day, but Wednesday ended up being much of the same. It was almost laughable, how at every opportunity we had to talk we ended up being interrupted in some way. Whether it was the red phone, a frantic call from Jason when the wifi had gone down or Hanssen popping in to see how we were holding up with the extra patients, we never seemed to be able to get five minutes to ourselves. Even on Thursday night, when we managed to make it to Albies without a hitch, the moment we were through the door we were dragged into the crowd of people gathered for Sacha Levy’s birthday, never getting to be alone together for the rest of the night. 

It was Friday, finally, when things thankfully started to slow down. We even managed to complete a splenic artery aneurysm repair together. I missed it, performing with her in theatre like that. We were so coordinated, so used to one another that we could almost complete it in silence. We moved together so naturally, each anticipating the other’s movements almost before we had even decided ourselves what our next step would be. It reminded me of when we danced, somehow always managing not to step on each other’s toes even in the most cramped of crowds, and when I looked up mid-suture and saw her eyes smiling through her surgical mask I wondered if she were having the same thought.

The rest of the shift passed unremarkably. Bernie had some post-op work to do whilst I caught up on a mountain of paperwork that I had been too busy for all week. I was finished by half past six, and spent the remaining half an hour replying to some emails. 

"What a week!" Bernie exclaimed as she returned to the office just before the clock struck for 7pm and the end of our shift. She was out of her scrubs, instead clad in a rather flattering dark green blouse and those skin-tight jeans I loved. She sat down heavily in one of the guest chairs by the door, a bright smile on her face. "Are you nearly finished up?" 

I nodded, gesturing at the screen. "Just got to finalise this email to the board and then I'm all set." I tapped a few more keys, before clicking shut down on my computer. "Done."

"Great," Bernie replied, pausing a moment. "We need to talk." She said it a notch quieter than her other words, and I shot her a reassuring smile.

"Yes, we do," I said seriously. "If we can ever get five minutes to ourselves." 

"Well, no time like the present," she said, nodding over at the coat rack for me to hurry up. I stood, but then had a better idea. 

"Hang on." I moved to my desk draw, fished about for a few seconds, before taking out a key, walking to the door and locking it shut. "There we are. No interruptions." 

She looked mildly intimidated for a moment, before her posture softened and she nodded, standing to hang her coat back up and flick on a lamp as I closed the blinds. I sat back down in my office chair, before hastily moving to sit on one of the other guest chairs beside her, feeling too much as though I were conducting a job interview. We needed to be level for this. 

“So…” I started, my palms resting on my knees. I had built myself up to this moment for the past seven weeks, and now it was here… I was lost for words. 

“I’ll go first?” Bernie offered. I opened my mouth to protest; after all that had happened, I thought that it were only right that I should be the one to make the first move, but no words came out. Instead I simply shook my head, holding up a hand to signal for her to give me a minute. It wasn’t that I didn’t know what I wanted to say, what I _needed_ to say; I just wanted it to be perfect. I didn’t want to leave any room for doubt or misinterpretation. I wanted her to know, definitely, how I felt, and to know that I knew for sure myself that this was what I wanted. 

I tightened my hands on my knees, allowing my eyes to flutter closed for a couple of seconds, before looking up at her, meeting her eyes. 

“I’m in love with you," I confessed, my voice thicker that I expected. "I'm so sorry that it's taken me this long to find... to process what happened. I've been so selfish." I gave her a guilty look. "I've been so wrapped up in myself that I lost sight of what really matters. And when I realised that, then I could finally allow myself to just... get over myself." I laughed nervously. "I needed to get over myself and to see that we're both only human and that life's just too short for me to be so... finicky. I love you. I always have. I daresay I always will. So... there you have it." I let out a deep breath, my heart hammering in my chest. She gazed at me contemplatively for a few moments, a small smile on her lips, before reaching out and laying her hand over mine on my knee. 

"I love you too," she said softly, simply, and I felt a wave of relief wash over me. "Thank you for being so patient with me these past six weeks." 

I barked out an incredulous laugh. "Me the patient one?" I scoffed, shaking my head. "You're the one that's put up with my ridiculous moods for the past six months! I certainly wouldn't have put up with me for that long." 

She grinned. "Yes you have been rather adolescent." She looked down at our joined hands, her shoulders shaking with silent laughter. "I can't believe _I'm_ the one that's had to be grown up about this." 

I bit my lip, sitting back a bit more comfortably. "Can we blame hormones?" I asked jokingly. 

"What hormones?" She teased. 

"Well, lack of, then," I replied, before bursting into giggles, our hands still joined as we laughed at one another, at how ridiculous we had been. It felt like a breath of fresh air, each giggle dispelling more and more of the dark cloud that had surrounded us for so long. 

"Really, though, thank you for not holding it against me. I just needed some space to... cool off a bit." 

"It was the right call." I squeezed her hand. "I needed some space too. It was the best thing for both of us. Probably the first thing we’ve done right since you got here.”

She shook her head. “I”m sorry I… ignored you, when I first arrived. Truth be told, when I first saw you by that car, I didn’t recognise you until after we’d begun talking. And then you didn’t seem to have recognised me and… I didn’t think it would be the most welcome of reunions.” She sighed. 

“I didn’t know what to do,” I admitted. “I was shocked to see you. I didn’t know what to say or think, and we were both in relationships, so I guess I just blanked it out. Until I got home and on the Shiraz, that is.” She chuckled fondly. “I dug out our old mixtape - the one you gave me before you left - and… let myself remember, for the first time in years.” 

“You’ve still got it?” Bernie asked in surprise. I nodded.

“Could never bring myself to throw it away,” I replied wistfully. 

Our eyes met, and we smiled. We were being honest, finally. I felt as though a switch had been flicked, a light turned on, and now it was okay to talk to her about anything. We were both past the point of flying off the handle at the little things; we just wanted to tell the truth. 

“Both in relationships,” Bernie repeated, with a faint smirk. “Doesn’t that feel like a millennium ago?” I laughed. 

“Quite,” I agreed. 

“What happened with Robbie, anyway?” 

I paused, heaving a sigh. “Jason was and always will be my priority. Robbie couldn’t accept that.”

“Twat.” 

“My sentiments exactly. I’ll admit to feeling a bit heartbroken at first, but… then I found out that you were newly single.” I winked at her.

She laughed, her cheeks brightening a little. “Yes, I’ll admit my heart did a little jump when I found out Robbie was off the scene.” I smiled, squeezing her hand. 

“I’m sorry I went off on one about you and Alex, by the way,” I apologised softly, turning my palm now to interlink our fingers. 

“No, no,” Bernie shook her head. “I don’t blame you. It wasn’t one of my wisest moves.”

“What happened?” 

She shrugged. “I just… fell in love with her. I don’t even remember it happening. One day we were good friends and colleagues, the next I found myself kissing her. It was nothing sordid; I never intended to cheat on Marcus and I don’t think I’ll ever truly forgive myself for doing that to him and the kids. I just think that when you’re our there and working so closely with someone, and you haven’t seen your family for so long… it’s kind of like a different reality, you’re detached from home and so detached from the guilt too.”

“Until you get blown up,” I inputted. She smiled. 

“Yes, until that. Karma.” 

“I wouldn’t quite go that far.”

“Anyway. She told me I needed to sort my life out. I have done, within reason, and I don’t love her any more. So maybe it was just circumstance.” She cleared her throat. “Either way, I think I’d have always chosen you.” She lifted our hands, brushing her lips across my knuckles. I beamed, fighting a blush. 

We sat in companionable silence for a few moments, enjoying the feeling of our joined hands, of being around one another again, until I spoke.   
  
“So, what now?”

I held my breath as she turned her head back to me, her eyes searching. 

“What do you want?”

“I want you.” 

She held my gaze for a few more moments, before breaking into a grin. “I’m all yours,” she promised, her eyes soft. “But let’s take it slowly this time. No rush.” 

“Of course,” I agreed, nodding a little too enthusiastically. “We’ll take it slow. And I think we’re past our time in nightclubs, too.” 

“Yes,” she chuckled. “I’m still not averse to a bit of music though, if we’re staying?” She nodded over at the radio on the side. I arched an eyebrow, meeting her gaze, and suddenly we both knew what to do. It was as if we were on autopilot, reverting back to default as we both stood, Bernie moving to tune the radio and I reaching into the bottom drawer for my emergency bottle of Shiraz and glasses, both beaming as we went. 

“Ah!” Bernie exclaimed, finally finding an oldies radio station as I started to pour our glasses of wine. “Remember this?” 

_Well we got no class_

_And we got no principles_

_And we got no innocence_

I nodded, biting my bottom lip. “Last day of school?” 

“You got it.”

“And Alan—?” 

“Yep.” 

We both collapsed into giggles. 

“He’s a detective superintendent now,” Bernie told, both our hands trembling with laughter as I passed her a glass. 

“What is the world coming to?” I sat back down again, a hand over my mouth. “I still can’t believe Miss… _Caroline_ saw us. Apart from the obvious, I’m absolutely mortified she saw me doing _Flashdance_.” 

“Well, at least you kept your clothes on _that_ time,” Bernie winked, taking a sip of her wine. 

I cringed. “Don’t remind me. We should go visit her sometime, you know?”

“We should.” Bernie nodded happily. 

“Take her out.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

“Together.”

“Together.” 

::

We stayed in the office for the rest of the night, reminiscing about old times, filling each other in on our thirty years apart. I told her about Edward, about how I had remembered her on my wedding day. She told me about university, about her therapy, about her combat training. We swapped stories of our children growing up - Elinor and Charlotte had even been at a summer camp together, unbeknownst to us. It was nice, getting to know her life, all the moments that we had both missed out on. It felt like a release. 

“This song always reminded me of you.” 

_Man we were killin' time_

_We were young and restless_

_We needed to unwind_

_I guess nothin' can last forever, forever, no! yeah!_

“I suppose it is rather fitting, yes. Not quite _Summer of ’69_ , though. Summer of ’83, yes.”

“Debatable.” She smirked at me. I shoved her playfully on the shoulder, my cheeks reddening. 

“Good to see your juvenile sense of humour hasn’t changed,” I chastised jokingly. She shook her head. 

“Never.” 

By the time we had finished the first bottle of wine, both of us were famished, so, after a small argument about toppings - pineapple is an abomination, and I refuse to hear differently - ordered a large half Hawaiian, half meat-feast pizza, bribing an F1 with assisting on a scheduled laparotomy on Monday to go down and collect from the driver for us, along with another bottle of wine from the off license round the corner whilst they were on their break. We weren’t leaving the office for _anything_. Nothing could be worth breaking this little cocoon we had formed, this shelter from the world around us that allowed us to just be us, to forget everything else for a while and discover one another again.

At some point in the evening we had ended up sitting on the floor, both deciding that it was more comfortable down there and moving the chairs so that we could rest our backs against the wall, instead placing our glasses of wine and pizza on them. We ate in silence, both enjoying the music playing. 

_I don't regret a single moment,_

_No, I don't (I know you don't) looking back_

_When I think of all those disappointments_

_I just laugh (I know you do), I just laugh_

Our eyes met over the lyrics and we smiled at one another, our mouths still half-full of pizza. I swallowed quickly as her eyes fell to my lips, my heart faltering for a moment before she leaned across, gently, innocently pressing her lips to mine. It was so soft, so chaste that it made my head swim and my toes tingle, somehow knocking the breath out of me despite requiring little energy on my part whatsoever. 

_I knew you were waiting_

_I knew you were waiting for me_

She pulled back, her cheeks rosy, her eyes sparkling, her hand hiding a grin so bright that it made my eyes water, and I knew in my heart that I would spend every day of the rest of my life working to elicit that very same smile. I could never, ever tire of that. 

We finished our pizza, kissed some more, sang along to some of our favourite songs, drank more wine, kissed again, danced, cried, laughed until our stomachs hurt, kissed until we could no longer breathe. 

The morning shift came all too quickly. We were dozing, by then, slumped against one another, our fingers intertwined. There was a sharp knock at the door, and we both jumped awake, wiping sleep from our eyes. 

“Just a minute!” Bernie called out, laughing as she looked at my face. “Your tongue is purple!”

I covered my mouth with my hand. “So’s yours!” I shot back, looking at the discarded pizza box and wine bottles around me. “Oh, heavens. What a mess.” 

“Wait ’til you look in a mirror,” Bernie teased, her knees cracking as she made to get up. 

“Charming! You’ve seen better days yourself, _darling._ ”

Bernie laughed, standing, before holding her hand to her head with a groan. “Oh, god, I’m still drunk.” 

“I’m not surprised.” 

“I drove here.”

“Bernie!” 

“I’d better order a taxi—“ Another sharp knock at the door. 

“I’ll get it,” I sighed, wincing as I stood. I patted down my hair, brushed off my blouse, wiped the smudges of lipstick from around my mouth. 

I opened the door a creak. 

“Morning!” Fletch poked his head in. I forced a cheery smile. 

“Good morning, Nurse Fletcher. What can we do for you?” 

“I need the handover book.” 

I sighed, rushing over to my filing cabinet to fetch it. “Here.” 

“Great. I’ll leave you two ladies—“

“Actually, Fletch, would you mind ordering us a cab while you’re at it?” I asked, squinting against the bright lights of the ward. He grinned. 

“Just one cab?” I rolled my eyes. 

“No. No, Fletch. Two cabs. Please.” 

He gave me a wink and dashed off. 

“I only live ten minutes from you. We could have shared,” Bernie said lightly, running a hand through her hair and fastening the top button of her blouse. 

“I don’t think that would have been the best idea, do you?” I raised an eyebrow. She chuckled, leaning over and giving me another peck on the lips before turning to search the desk for her phone as I cleared away the chairs and litter. 

“You know, I was thinking,” I began, a little tentatively. She stopped, blinking in confusion at the new seriousness in my voice. I allowed my posture to soften slightly. “Well, I was wondering… They’re doing a stage production of _Mamma Mia_ at the Old Theatre next week. Cheesy, I know, but… if you fancied it?” 

Her face went blank, her tired brain seeming to take a couple of extra moments to register the idea, before smiling warmly. “I’d love to,” she replied, stuffing her phone in her back pocket. “Friday?”

I sighed in relief, nodding. “Friday it is.” 

“It’s a date.” 

We grinned at one another for a few moments. 

“I need to go get a couple of things from my car before the cab arrives,” Bernie announced. “Are you coming?” 

“I’ll be right behind you. Just gotta nip to the ladies’ before I go.” 

“Well, if I don’t see you, text me when you’re home.” 

“And you. I’ll book the tickets for Friday.”

“Perfect.”

We stood gormlessly for another couple of moments, neither wanting to leave the other’s company, until my bladder got the better of me. 

“Well, see you soon.” 

I leant over to give her a kiss goodbye, and it came to me in a rush how natural it felt. I could see this for the rest of my life.

“See you soon.” 

We both hurried off, and though I didn’t want to part from her, all I felt was elation. I knew now that I had the rest of my life to stare at that beautiful face, to hold her in my arms, to sing to her as she fell asleep. I knew that this was how I would spend forever. And I looked forward to every moment.

::

“And Bernie will get this too, yes?”

“Yes, Auntie Serena. She’s got it on her phone already. _You’re_ behind.” 

“Oh, shush. Right, so how do I work this?” 

“Well, what do you want?”

“That one.”

“Okay. You just press this button here, then that one there, then click where you want to put it.”

“And Bernie can do that too?” 

“Yes.”

“Marvellous.”

* * *

**Spotify Collaborative Playlist: “Our Songs: 2016-?”**

_Track 1: Mamma Mia - ABBA_

* * *

** THE END **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all again so, so, so much. I hope I didn't disappoint! There will definitely be an epilogue on it's way :)


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